should be Earl of Devon?"
"He," responded Basset, a little mischievously, "that cometh in a right
line from the Kings of France, and (through women) from the Emperors of
Constantinople."
"What kin art thou to him?" demanded Jack, surveying his old playmate
from head to foot, with a sensation of respect which he had never felt
for him before.
"My father's mother and his mother were sisters, I take it," said
Arthur.
"Arthur Tremayne, how cometh it I never heard this afore?"
"I cannot tell, Jack: thou didst never set me on recounting of my
pedigree, as I remember."
"But wherefore not tell the same?"
"What matter?" quietly responded Arthur.
"`What matter'--whether I looked on thee as a mere parson's son, with
nought in thine head better than Greek and Latin, or as near kinsman of
one with very purple blood in him,--one that should be well-nigh Premier
Earl of England, but for an attainder?"
Arthur passed by the slight offered alike to his father's profession and
to the classics, merely replying with a smile,--"I am glad if it give
thee pleasure to know it."
"But tell me, prithee, with such alliance, what on earth caused Master
Tremayne to take to parsonry?"
The contempt in which the clergy were held, for more than a hundred
years after this date, was due in all probability to two causes. The
first was the natural reaction from the overweening reverence anciently
felt for the sacerdotal order: when the _sacerdos_ was found to be but a
presbyter, his charm was gone. But the second was the disgrace which
had been brought upon their profession at large, by the evil lives of
the old priests.
"I believe," said Arthur, gravely, "it was because he accounted the
household service of God higher preferment than the nobility of men."
"Yet surely he knew how men would account of him?"
"I misdoubt if he cared for that, any more than I do, Jack Enville."
"Nor is thy mother any more than a parson's daughter."
"My father, and my mother's father," said Arthur, his eyes flashing,
"were all but martyrs; for it was only the death of Queen Mary that
saved either from the martyr's stake. That is my lineage, Jack
Enville,--higher than Courtenay of Powderham."
"Thou must be clean wood, Arthur!" said Jack, laughing. "Why, there
were poor chapmen and sely [simple] serving-maids among them that were
burnt in Queen Mary's days; weavers, bricklayers, and all manner of
common folk. There were rare few of any sort." [Of any consequence.]
"They be kings now, whatso they were," answered Arthur.
"There was a bishop or twain, Jack, if I mistake not," put in Basset,
yawning; "and a Primate of all England, without I dreamed it."
"Go to, Jack!" pursued Arthur. "I can tell thee of divers craftsmen
that were very common folk--one Peter, a fisherman, and one Paul, a
tent-maker, and an handful belike--whose names shall ring down all the
ages, long after men have forgotten that there ever were Courtenays or
Envilles. I set the matter on thine own ground to say this."
"Stand and deliver, Jack Enville! That last word hath worsted thee,"
said Basset.
"I am not an orator," returned Jack, loftily. "I am a gentleman."
"Well, so am I, as I suppose, but I make not such ado thereof as thou,"
answered Basset.
The last word had only just escaped his lips, when Arthur Tremayne
stepped suddenly to the side of the vessel.
"The Don ahead?" inquired Basset, with sleepy sarcasm.
"I cannot tell what is ahead yet," said Arthur, concentrating his gaze
in an easterly direction. "But there is somewhat approaching us."
"A sea-gull," was the suggestion of Basset, with shut eyes.
"Scantly," said Arthur good-humouredly.
Half idly, half curiously, jack brought his powers to bear on the
approaching object. Basset was not sufficiently interested to move.
The object ere long revealed itself as a small vessel, rowing in all
haste, and evidently anxious to reach the fleet without losing an hour.
The "Revenge" stood out furthest of all the ships to eastward, and was
therefore likely to receive the little vessel's news before any other.
Almost before she came within speaking distance, at Arthur's request,
Jack hailed her--that young gentleman being in possession of more
stentorian lungs than his friend.
The captain, who replied, was gifted with vocal powers of an equally
amazing order. He announced his vessel as the "Falcon," [Note 3]
himself as Thomas Fleming; and his news--enough to make every ear in the
fleet tingle--that "the Spaniard" had been sighted that morning off the
Lizard. Arthur darted away that instant in search of Drake: Jack and
Basset (both wide awake now) stayed to hear the details,--the latter
excited, the former sceptical.
"'Tis all but deceiving!" sneered the incredulous Jack. "Thomas
Fleming! why, who wist not that Thomas Fleming is more pirate than
sea-captain, and that the `Falcon' is well enough known for no honest
craft?"
"`Fair and soft go far in a day,'" returned Basset. "What if he be a
pirate? He is an Englishman. Even a known liar may speak truth."
"As if the like of him should sight the Spaniard!" retorted Jack
magnificently, "when the whole fleet have scoured the seas in vain!"
"The whole fleet were not scouring the seas at three of the clock this
morrow!" cried Basset, impatiently. "Hold thine idle tongue, and leave
us hear the news." And he shouted with all the power of his
lungs,--"What strength is he of?"
"The strength of the very devil!" Fleming roared back. "Great wooden
castles, the Lord wot how many, and coming as fast as a bird flieth."
"Pish!" said Jack.
Basset was on the point of shouting another question, when Sir Francis
Drake's voice came, clear and sonorous, from no great distance.
"What time shall the Don be hither?"
"By to-morrow breaketh, as like as not," was Fleming's answer.
"Now, my lads, we have work afore us," said Sir Francis, addressing his
young friends. "Lieutenant Enville, see that all hands know at once,--
every man to his post! Tremayne, you shall have the honour to bear the
news to the Lord Admiral: and Basset, you shall fight by my side. I
would fain promote you all, an' I have the chance; allgates, I give you
the means to win honour, an' you wot how to use them."
All the young men expressed their acknowledgment--Jack rather fulsomely,
Basset and Tremayne in a few quiet words. It was a decided advantage to
Jack and Arthur to have the chance of distinguishing themselves by "a
fair field and no favour." But was it any special preferment for the
great-grandson of Edward the Fourth? What glory would be added to his
name by "honourable mention" in Lord Howard's despatches, or maybe an
additional grade in naval rank?
Did Robert Basset fail to see that?
By no means. But he was biding his time. The chivalrous generosity,
which was one of the legacies of his Plantagenet forefathers, imposed
silence on him for a season.
Elizabeth Tudor had shown much kindness to her kinsman, Sir Arthur
Basset, and while Elizabeth lived, no Basset of Umberleigh would lift a
hand against her. But no such halo surrounded her successor--whoever
that yet doubtful individual might prove to be. So Robert Basset
waited, and bore his humiliation calmly--all the more calmly for the
very pride of blood that was in him: for no slight, no oppression, no
lack of recognition, could make him other than the heir of the
Plantagenets. He would be ready when the hour struck. But meanwhile he
was waiting.
Fleming's news had taken everybody by surprise except one person. But
that one was the Lord High Admiral.
Lord Howard quickly gathered his fleet together, and inquired into its
condition. Many of the ships were poorly victualled; munition ran very
short; not a vessel was to be compared for size with the "great wooden
castles" which Fleming had described. The wind was south-west, and
blowing hard; the very wind most favourable to the invaders.
Sir Edward Hoby, brother-in-law of the Admiral, was sent off to the
Queen with urgent letters, begging that she would send more aid to the
fleet, and put her land forces in immediate readiness, for "the
Spaniard" was coming at last, and as fast as the wind could bring him.
Sir Edward reached Tilbury on the very day chosen by Elizabeth to review
her land forces. He left the fleet making signals of distress; he found
the army in triumphant excitement.
The Queen rode in from Havering on a stately charger--tradition says a
white one--bearing a marshal's staff in her hand, and attired in a
costume which was a singular mixture of warrior and woman,--a corslet of
polished steel over an enormous farthingale. As she came near the
outskirts of her army, she commanded all her retinue to fall back, only
excepting Lord Ormonde, who bore the sword of state before her, and the
solitary page who carried her white-plumed helmet. Coming forward to
the front of Leicester's tent--the Earl himself leading her horse,
bare-headed--the Queen took up her position, and, with a wave of her
white-gloved hand for silence, she harangued her army.
"My loving people,"--thus spoke England's Elizabeth,--"we have been
persuaded, by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we
commit ourself to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery. But I do
assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving
people. Let tyrants fear. I have alway so behaved myself, that under
God I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts
and good-will of my subjects: and therefore I am come amongst you, as
you see, at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being
resolved in the midst and heat of the battle to live or die amongst you
all,--to lay down, for my God, and for my kingdoms, and for my people,
mine honour and my blood even in the dust. I know I have the body of a
weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and of a
King of England too; and think foul scorn that Parma, or Spain, or any
prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm: to
which, rather than any dishonour should grow by me, I myself will take
up arms,--I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every
one of your virtues in the field. I know already for your forwardness
ye have deserved rewards and crowns: and we do assure you, on the word
of a prince, they shall, be duly paid you. For the meantime, my
Lieutenant General [Leicester] shall be in my stead, than whom never
prince commanded a more noble nor worthy subject. Not doubting but, by
your obedience to my General, by your concord in the camp, and your
valour in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over these
enemies of my God, and of my kingdoms, and of my people."
We are told that the soldiers responded unanimously--
"Is it possible that any Englishman can abandon such a glorious cause,
or refuse to lay down his life in defence of this heroic Princess?"
The sentiment may be authentic, but the expression of it is modern.
The speech over, Leicester reverently held the gilt stirrup, and
Elizabeth alighted from her white charger, and went into his pavilion to
dinner.
Before the repast was over, Sir Edward Hoby arrived from Lord Howard.
He was taken at once to the tent, that the first freshness of his news
might be for the Queen's own ears. It had taken him three weeks to
reach Tilbury from Plymouth. Kneeling before the Queen, he reported
that he had been sent in all haste to entreat for "more aid sent to the
sea," for Medina was known to be coming, and that quickly.
"Let him come!" was the general cry of the troops outside.
"_Buenas horas, Senor_!" said the royal lady within, wishing good speed
to her adversary in his own tongue.
And both meant the same thing,--"We are ready."
It was England against the world. She had no ally, except the sixty
Dutch ships. And except, too, One who was invisible, but whom the winds
and the sea obeyed.
The aid required by Lord Howard came: not from Elizabeth, but from
England. Volunteers poured in from every shire,--men in velvet gowns
and gold chains, men in frieze jackets and leather jerkins. The
"delicate-handed, dilettante" Earl of Oxford; the "Wizard" Earl of
Northumberland, just come to his title; the eccentric Earl George of
Cumberland; Sir Thomas Cecil, elder son of the Lord High Treasurer
Burleigh,--weak-headed, but true-hearted; Sir Robert Cecil, his younger
brother,--strong-headed and false-hearted; and lastly, a host in
himself, Sir Walter Raleigh, whose fine head and, great heart few of his
contemporaries appreciated at their true value,--and perhaps least of
all the royal lady whom he served. These men came in one by one.
But the leather jerkins flocked in by hundreds; the men who were of no
account, whose names nobody cared to preserve, whose deeds nobody
thought of recording; yet who, after all, were England, and without whom
their betters would have made very poor head against the Armada. They
came, leaving their farms untilled, their forges cold, their axes and
hammers still. All that could wait till afterwards. Just now, England
must be saved.
From all the coast around, provisions were sent in, both of food and
munition: here a stand of arms from the squire's armoury, there a batch
of new bread from the yeoman's farm: those who could send but a chicken
or a cabbage did not hold them back; there were some who had nothing to
give but themselves--and that they gave. Every atom was accepted: they
all counted for something in the little isle's struggle to keep free.
It is the little things, after all, of which great things are made. Not
only the men who lined the decks of the "Ark Royal," but the women
ashore who baked their bread, and the children who gathered wood in the
forest for the ovens, were helping to save England.
Even some Recusants--which meant Romanists--came in with offerings of
food, arms, and service: men who, in being Romanists, had not forgotten
that they were Englishmen.
About noon on the twentieth of July, the Armada was first sighted from
Plymouth. She was supposed at first to be making direct, for that town.
But she passed it, and bore on eastward. It was evident now that she
meant to make for the Channel,--probably meant to use as a basis of
operations, Calais--England's own Calais, for the loss of which her
heart was sore yet.
Lord Howard followed as closely as was consistent with policy. And now
appeared the disadvantage of the immense vessels which formed the bulk
of the Armada. The English ships, being smaller, were quicker; they
could glide in and out with ease, where the "great wooden castles" found
bare standing-room. Before the Armada could reach Calais Roads, early
on the 21st of July, Lord Howard was upon her.
When she saw her pursuers, she spread forth in a crescent form, in which
she was seven miles in length. Trumpets were sounded, drums beaten--
everything was done to strike terror into the little English fleet.
"_Santiago de Compostella_!" was the cry from the Armada.
"God and Saint George for merry England!" came back from the "Ark
Royal."
Both navies struggled hard to get to windward. But the Spanish ships
were too slow and heavy. The English won the coveted position. The
"Revenge" was posted as light-bearer, for night was coming on, and the
"Ark Royal," followed by the rest of the fleet, dashed into the midst of
the Armada.
Sir Francis Drake made a terrible blunder. Instead of keeping to the
simple duty allotted to him, he went off after five large vessels, which
he saw standing apart, and gave them chase for some distance. Finding
them innocent Easterlings, or merchantmen of the Hanse Towns, he ran
hastily back, to discover that in his absence Lord Howard had most
narrowly escaped capture, having mistaken the Spanish light for the
English.
"'Tis beyond any living patience!" cried Robert Basset fierily to Arthur
Tremayne. "Here all we might have hit some good hard blows at the
Spaniard, and to be set to chase a covey of miserable Easterlings!"
"'Twas a misfortunate blunder," responded Arthur more quietly.
After two hours' hard fighting, the Admiral, finding his vessels too
much scattered, called them together, tacked, and lay at anchor until
morning. It certainly was enough to disappoint men who were longing for
"good hard blows," when the "Revenge" rejoined the fleet only just in
time to hear the order for retreat. Fresh reinforcements came in during
the night. When day broke on the 22nd, Lord Howard divided his fleet
into four squadrons. He himself commanded the first, Drake the second,
Hawkins the third, and Frobisher the fourth. The wind was now north.
The Armada went slowly forward; and except for the capture of one large
Venetian ship, nothing was done until the 25th. Then came a calm,
favourable to the Spaniards, who were rowing, while the English trusted
to their sails. When the Armada came opposite the Isle of Wight, Lord
Howard again gave battle.
This time the "Revenge" was engaged, and in the van. While the battle
went on, none knew who might be falling: but when the fleet was at last
called to anchor--after a terrible encounter--Basset and Tremayne met
and clasped hands in congratulation.
"Where is Enville?" asked the former.
Arthur had seen nothing of him. Had he fallen?
The day passed on--account was taken of the officers and crew--but
nothing was to be heard of Jack Enville.
About half an hour later, Arthur, who had considerably distinguished
himself in the engagement, was resting on deck, looking rather sadly out
to sea, and thinking of Jack, when Basset came up to him, evidently
struggling to suppress laughter.
"Prithee, Tremayne, come below with me one minute."
Arthur complied, and Basset led him to the little cabin which the three
young officers occupied together.
"Behold!" said Basset grandiloquently, with a flourish of his hand
towards the berths. "Behold, I beseech you, him that hath alone routed
the Spaniard, swept the seas, saved England, and covered him with glory!
He it is whose name shall live in the chronicles of the time! He shall
have a statue--of gingerbread--in the court of Her Majesty's Palace of
Westminster, and his name shall be set up--wrought in white goose
feathers--on the forefront of Paul's! Hail to the valiant and
unconquerable Jack Enville, the deliverer of England from Pope and
Spaniard!"
To the great astonishment of Arthur, there lay the valiant Jack, rolled
in a blanket, apparently very much at his ease: but when Basset's
peroration was drawing to a close, he unrolled himself, looking rather
red in the face, and returned to ordinary life by standing on the floor
in full uniform.
"Hold thy blatant tongue for an ass as thou art!" was his civil reply to
Basset's lyric on his valour. "If I did meet a wound in the first flush
of the fray, and came down hither to tend the same, what blame lieth
therein?"
"Wert thou wounded, Jack?" asked Arthur.
"Too modest belike to show it," observed Basset. "Where is it, trow?
Is thy boot-toe abrased, or hast had five hairs o' thine head carried
away?"
"'Tis in my left wrist," said Jack, replying to Arthur, not Basset.
"Prithee, allow us to feast our eyes on so glorious a sign of thy
valiantness!" said Basset.
Jack was extremely reluctant to show his boasted wound; but being
pressed to do so by both his friends (from different motives) he
exhibited something which looked like a severe scratch from a cat.
"Why, 'tis not much!" said Arthur, who could have shown several worse
indications of battle on himself, which he had not thought worth notice.
"Oh, is it not?" muttered Jack morosely. "I can tell thee, 'tis as
sore--"
"Nay, now, wound not yet again the great soul of the hero!" put in
Basset with grim irony. "If he lie abed i' th' day for a wound to his
wrist, what shall he do for a stab to his feelings? You shall drive him
to drown him in salt water; and that were cruelty unheard-of, for it
should make his eyes smart. I tell thee what, Jack Enville--there is
_one_ ass aboard the fleet, and his name is neither Arthur Tremayne
nor--saving your presence--Robin Basset. Farewell! I go to win a
laurel crown from Sir Francis by bearing news unto him of thy heroical
deeds."
And away marched Basset, much to the relief of Jack.
The encounter of that day had been fearful. But when Lord Howard drew
off to recruit himself, the Armada gathered her forces together, went
forward, and cast anchor on the 27th in Calais Roads.
Here fresh orders reached her from Parma. Instead of skirmishing in the
Channel, she was to assume the offensive at once. Within three days
Medina must land in England. King Philip appears to have resigned his
original intention of making the attack in person.
The Armada prepared for the final struggle. The young gentlemen on
board meantime amused themselves by shouting sundry derisive songs, one
of which was specially chosen when the "Revenge" was sufficiently near
to be aggrieved by it: and Arthur, who had learned enough Spanish from
his mother to act as translator, rendered the ditty into plain English
prose for the benefit of Jack and Basset. The former received it with
lofty scorn,--the latter with fiery vaticinations concerning his
intentions when the ships should meet: and looking at the figure-head of
the nearest vessel whence the song was shouted, he singled out "La
Dolorida" for his special vengeance. A translation of the lyric in
question is appended. [Note 4.] The speaker, it will be seen, is
supposed to be a young Spanish lady.
"My brother Don John
To England is gone,
To kill the Drake,
And the Queen to take,
And the heretics all to destroy;
And he has promised
To bring to me
A Lutheran boy
With a chain round his neck:
And Grandmamma
From his share shall have
A Lutheran maid
To be her slave."
The prospect was agreeable. One thing was plain--that "the Don" had
acquired a wholesome fear of "the Drake."
Sunday was the 28th: and on that morning it became evident that Medina
meant mischief. The seven-mile crescent was slowly, but surely, closing
in round Dover. The Spaniard was about to land. Lord Howard called a
council of war: and a hasty resolution was taken. Eight gunboats were
cleared out; their holds filled with combustible matter; they were set
on fire, and sent into the advancing Armada. The terror of the
Spaniards was immense. They fancied it Greek fire, such as had wrought
fearful havoc among them at the siege of Antwerp. With shrieks of "The
fire of Antwerp!--The fire of Antwerp!"--the Armada fell into disorder,
and the vessels dispersed on all sides in the wildest confusion. Lord
Howard followed in chase of Medina.
Even yet the Armada might have rallied and renewed the attack. But now
the wind began to blow violently from the south. The galleys could make
no head against it. Row as they would, they were hurried northward, the
English giving chase hotly. The Spanish ships were driven hither and
thither, pursued alike by the winds and the foe. One of the largest
galleons ran ashore at Calais--from which the spoil taken was fifty
thousand ducats--one at Ostend, several in different parts of Holland.
Don Antonio de Matigues escaped from the one which ran aground at
Calais, and carried back to Philip, like the messengers of Job, the news
that he only had escaped to tell the total loss of the Invincible
Armada. But the loss was not quite so complete. Medina was still
driving northward before the gale, with many of his vessels, chased by
the "Ark Royal" and her subordinates. He tried hard to cast anchor at
Gravelines; but Lord Howard forced him away. Past Dunquerque ran the
shattered Armada, with her foe in hot pursuit. There was one danger
left, and until that peril was past, Lord Howard would not turn back.
If Medina had succeeded in landing in Scotland,--which the Admiral fully
expected him to attempt--the numerous Romanists left in that country,
and the "Queensmen," the partisans of the beheaded Queen, would have
received him with open arms. This would have rendered the young King's
[James the Sixth, of Scotland] tenure of power very uncertain, and might
not improbably have ended in an invasion of the border by a
Scoto-Spanish army. But Lord Howard did not know that no thought of
victory now animated Medina. The one faint hope within him was to reach
home.