After all, employment, next to a clear conscience, is the best
antidote to a brown-study. Hildebrand, it is true, did not
possess the one, but he was soon to forget his uneasiness in
the bustle of the other. On his arrival in London, he proceeded
straight to the residence of Sir Walter Raleigh, in the Strand;
and there, to his great contentment, found a sphere opened
to him, which promised to leave him little opportunity for
melancholy.
Sir Walter received both him and Don Rafaele with the utmost
warmth and eagerness. Their greetings being despatched, he
acquainted Hildebrand, in a few words, with the object and nature
of the service in which he was to be employed. From what he said,
Hildebrand learned that these particulars were yet secret, but
that it was understood, among the few who were informed on such
matters, that he would be directed to sail immediately for the
coast of Spain, and collect information relative to the expected
armada. He told him, further, that he would sail with the Queen’s
commission, in his own ship, which had been taken up by the
Government for the public service, and was now perfectly ready to
put to sea.
“And now that I have told thee all,” he concluded, “let us
straight to horse, and ride off to Deptford, to my Lord Admiral.
I know he waits us with some impatience.”
“We will to him out of hand, then,” answered Hildebrand. “Don
Rafaele will wait our return here.”
The personage referred to, understanding what was said, at once
agreed to the proposal, and the two friends thereupon prepared to
set forth. Their horses were soon ready; and, taking leave of Don
Rafaele, who followed them to the door, and waited to see them
depart, they quickly mounted, and set forward for Deptford.
Hitherto Hildebrand had seen little preparation against the
formidable armada of which he had brought the first intimation
to England, and which threatened not only the independence, but
the religion, and even the very existence of the empire. On
his way through the city, however, nothing was to be seen but
martial costumes, and warlike provisions. The staid citizens,
who had never known any parade but Sir Thomas Gresham’s new
“Bourse,” bore themselves like soldiers, and looked fresh from
the drill-ground; and even the ’prentices walked erect, and
aspired to look like Cæsars. Cutlers’ marts seemed to be the
popular places of resort; and the lucky shop that, among other
weapons, could exhibit to public view one of the clumsy firelocks
then in use, and which are to this day called after the reigning
sovereign, by the name of “Brown Bess,” was more frequented than
the Paris Garden. London-bridge and the Borough looked no less
alive to the crisis; and beyond, in St. George’s-fields, and
through the whole line of road to Deptford, were seen companies
of recruits, arrayed in the most motley habits, undergoing the
initiatory and vexatious process of drill.
But it was at Deptford, the principal depôt of the marine,
that the greatest preparations against the expected invasion
were in progress. Here were clearly at work the master-spirits
of the age. Artificers, engineers, officers, mariners, and
labourers were seen engaged in their various departments with the
regularity of machines. The burring of furnaces, the ringing of
anvils, the rattling of hammers, and the hilloing of sailors,
as cannon were cast, balls moulded, and ships laid down or
re-rigged, created so loud and confused a din, that sounds could
hardly be distinguished, and the voice could only be heard when
raised to its highest pitch.
Pushing past various groups of officers and mariners, Sir Walter
and Hildebrand proceeded straight to the office of the Lord
Admiral, Lord Howard of Effingham, in the chief dock-yard. On
sending that officer his name, Sir Walter was ordered to be
admitted; and under the guidance of the porter, he repaired,
together with Hildebrand, to the Admiral’s presence.
There were two personages in the room to which they were
conducted. One of them, who was no other than the Lord Admiral,
was an elderly man, of rather tall stature, and a grave, but
commanding presence. The other was little beyond the middle
age; and but for his laced jerkin, which spoke him an officer,
would hardly have been looked upon as a gentleman. Although,
however, his stature was mean, and his manners far from graceful,
there was a certain touch of daring in his face, especially
in his eye, that quickly won him attention, and even gave him
a look of authority. His features, moreover, were so familiar
to Englishmen, from the respect which was paid to them by the
sign-boards of taverns, and other places of resort, that they
required no beauty to recommend them to notice, but commanded
admiration by their very plainness. He was Sir Francis Drake.
The two admirals rose as Sir Walter entered, and extended their
hands to welcome him.
“My Lord Admiral, how is it with you?” cried Sir Walter, taking
his proffered hand. “Sir Francis,” he added, as he extended that
personage his other hand, “give thee the fair time of day!”
“Fair time enough, Sir Walter,” replied Drake. “’Tis but little
past six bells.”
“Sir Walter wishes thee a fair day,” said the Lord Admiral, in
explanation of Sir Walter’s greeting.
“Marry, come up, but methought he spoke to the clock!” cried
Drake. “Howsomever, the day is a fair one, though it blows
marvellous slack. I’ve seen windier days.”
“Ay, ay, doubtless,” observed Sir Walter, laughing. “But, my Lord
Admiral,” he continued, turning to that officer, “I have brought
thee the captain of the ‘Eliza,’ who was so heartily preferred to
thy favour by her Highness.”
Here Hildebrand, who had hitherto remained at the door, stepped
somewhat forward, and prepared to pay the Lord Admiral his
respects. Before he could effect his purpose, however, he was
arrested by Drake, who, springing forward, came between him and
the Lord Admiral, and caught him by the hand.
“Harkye, in your ear, tip us thy grappling-iron!” he cried. “Blow
me taught, but thou’rt a fair-weather fellow, too, to overhaul
the Don’s shiners! Harkye, in your ear, we’ll have a jorum of
liquor anon, at the ‘Three Jolly Mariners,’ in the town yonder.”
“I am marvellous grieved to stop good entertainment,” cried the
Lord Admiral, laughing; “but worthy Master Clifford (methinks, I
have his name right) must even to sea straight.”
“Though I would fain have spent an hour with good Sir Francis, my
Lord, I am ready to set forth incontinently,” smiled Hildebrand.
“Marry, and splice my timbers, well spoken!” exclaimed Drake.
“Harkye, in your ear, I be moored at ‘The Three Jolly Mariners;’
and, sink me, but better liquor can be had nowhere!”
“I’faith, I will speak it fair,” cried Sir Walter Raleigh, “by
the same token that your worship once nigh choked me with a cup
on’t, which did cause my Lady Nottingham, and divers other ladies
of note, to laugh right heartily. But my Lord Admiral grows
impatient.”
“The matter is urgent,” replied the Lord Admiral. “Captain
Clifford,” he added to Hildebrand, “canst thou away to-night?”
“I fear me, no, my Lord,” answered Hildebrand; “for I have not
yet been aboard.”
“Oh, all is ready aboard,” returned the Admiral. “Further, thy
ship lies off the dock here, and can away at once.”
“Some time to-night, then, my Lord, we will go!” answered
Hildebrand.
“You will find your orders aboard, not to be opened till you are
off the Start,” said the Lord Admiral. “And now, not to detain
thee longer, when thou hast so little time, give thee farewell,
and God speed thee!”
He extended his hand as he spoke, and Hildebrand, with a
profound bow, caught it up, and clasped it earnestly. He next
bade farewell to Sir Francis Drake, who, as he clasped his hand,
implored him, “in his ear,” but in a very loud voice, to remember
the sign of “The Three Jolly Mariners,” and to be sure to “bear
up” thither on his return. Hildebrand promised compliance, as
did Sir Walter Raleigh also; and he and Hildebrand, without more
words, then departed.
Although Hildebrand had expressed his readiness to leave England
immediately, he was not so fully prepared, in regard to his
personal affairs, as he at first conceived. However he might
manage respecting himself, he could not so easily resolve how
to dispose of Don Rafaele. It would be impossible, he felt, to
take that person with him, as the enterprise he was about to
embark in would doubtless be attended with great peril; and to
leave him in England, where he was unknown, and where his youth
and inexperience would have no protector, was almost equally
repugnant to him. Unable to determine how he should act in the
matter, he disclosed his embarrassing position to Sir Walter; and
asked that cavalier, to whose opinion he invariably deferred, for
his counsel thereon.
“Prithee, let it give thee no concern, good Clifford,” answered
Sir Walter. “He shall take up his abode with me; and, I promise
thee, in case thou incur any mishap, he shall find in me a warm
and hearty friend.”
“That I am right sure of,” rejoined Hildebrand, “and heartily
thank thee withal. But let us to the ship.”
“Nay, we will send thither my groom,” said Sir Walter, “to
notify to Master Halyard, whom the Lord Admiral has retained as
thy lieutenant, that thou wilt be aboard at eventide. We will
straight to town.”
Hildebrand acquiesced in this arrangement; and it was,
accordingly, on their arrival at the dock-yard gate, carried
into execution. When the groom had been despatched to Master
Halyard, Sir Walter and Hildebrand, without further delay,
mounted their horses, and set out for town.
On reaching Durham House, they were hailed with eagerness by Don
Rafaele, who inquired as curiously after the news, especially
in the matter which had taken them forth, as though he were an
Englishman.
“The news is, that I am straightway to take to the seas again, my
fair Rafaele,” answered Hildebrand. “But be not thou discomposed
thereat. Our right noble friend, Sir Walter here, will stand to
thee in my stead, and provide thee a homestead ashore.”
Don Rafaele changed colour.
“I’faith, he likes not me for a host so well as thou,” cried Sir
Walter, laughing. “I entreat thee, fair Senhor, look not on me
with disfavour. By my lady’s hand, thou shalt find me a right
faithful friend.”
Don Rafaele, whether he credited Sir Walter’s protestation, or
not, turned his head aside, and made no reply. That he was moved,
however, and even deeply, was apparent; for his broad chest
heaved again, and his face retained no trace of colour.
“Nay, nay, be not downcast, Rafaele!” cried Hildebrand, yet in a
voice far from cheering. “By my soul, the only grief that I know
in this matter is, that I shall leave thee behind.”
“Then, wherefore not take me with thee?” asked Don Rafaele, in a
tone of reproach.
“That were not reasonable,” answered Hildebrand. “I go on a
mission of singular and exceeding peril.”
“Peril?” echoed Don Rafaele, raising his eyes, which, to
his surprise, Hildebrand now perceived were dashed with
tears:--“Peril, saidst thou? We had peril, methinks, on our way
hither--ay, and singular and exceeding peril, too. Did I make any
plaint thereat? Did I--did I shrink?”
“By my faith, no!” exclaimed Hildebrand.
“I would be surety for thee, that thy valour is above question,”
cried Sir Walter.
“Thanks, thanks, noble Sir!” said Don Rafaele. “I hold thy hearty
assurances right welcome; yet is thy face, for all that, not
familiar to me as Master Clifford’s. I beseech thee, forget not
I am in a strange land, where I have no kindred. Remember thee,
furthermore, how notably young I am; and I was reared right
tenderly, I dare affirm. Prithee, then, let me with thee!”
“I’faith, I can refuse thee no further, my Rafaele,” cried
Hildebrand; “and only for the hazard to thyself, I were right
content to have thy fair company. We will even fix it so.”
Don Rafaele was overjoyed at this answer. At Hildebrand’s
suggestion, he immediately proceeded, with more cheerfulness than
one might have looked for, to prepare himself for their meditated
voyage. His preparations were soon completed; but those of
Hildebrand, which were of a more varied character, and not so
much at command, occupied a longer time. They, too, however,
were quite accomplished before the evening, and everything was
arranged for their instant departure.
It was with evident discomposure that they achieved the final
step of taking leave of Sir Walter. That cavalier, indeed, would
have accompanied them to the ship; but as he would have to come
back alone, and the night promised to be a dirty one, they
would by no means suffer him to do so. Having, after manifold
hesitating pauses, ultimately resolved to depart, they took leave
of him at the door, and set forward for Deptford by themselves.
It was growing late by the time they arrived at the tavern where
they were to leave their horses. Thence they walked to Deptford
Creek, where Hildebrand’s message to Halyard, conveyed by the
groom in the morning, had directed him to provide them a boat.
Their luggage, which, as the greater part of their personal
effects had never been removed from the ship, consisted of only
two boxes, was, by the alertness of their groom, brought down
with them by two porters, and thus they had no care but to
transport themselves to the ship.
As they expected, they found a boat, manned by a picked crew,
waiting at the creek for their reception. Amidst a loud hurrah,
which made their hearts spring again, they took their seats in
the stern; their luggage was safely bestowed in the midships; and
they shoved off for the cruizer.
She was lying but a little way out, with just water enough at low
tide, which was now turning, to keep her afloat. Everything was
arranged for her captain’s reception; and Master Halyard himself,
with Tom Tarpaulin, now towering in the elevated quality of
mate, were seen in the gangway, keeping a look-out. As the
anxiously expected boat began to be distinguished, the merry
whistle of the boatswain, which the prevailing stillness rendered
audible at a good distance, was heard piping to quarters; the
seamen were seen scrambling up the rigging, manning the yards;
and a picked squad, under the orders of Master Halyard, fell
in file at the gangway, ready to receive their captain on his
arrival. Loud and renewed cheers broke from the crew, as, with
his head uncovered, in compliment to the national flag, which
was flying aloft, Hildebrand stepped on to the deck. As he did
so, Master Halyard, who also was uncovered, presented him with
a sealed packet, stamped with the royal arms. Advancing to a
contiguous light, Hildebrand tore the packet open; and found
within, in two separate envelopes, his sealed orders, and the
Queen’s commission. He immediately ordered the crew to be piped
to the quarter-deck, and there, in their presence, read his
commission aloud. This done, he proceeded to set his ship on her
way.
The wind, though somewhat light, was favourable; and as the
tide turned, and the ship was cast off from her buoy, the sails
soon spread out, and carried her on gallantly. It was morning,
however, before she cleared the river, and three days had
elapsed when she came off the Start. There, agreeably to the
Lord Admiral’s injunction, Hildebrand opened the packet which
contained his orders. By these he was directed, in the first
place, to sail for the Mediterranean, and endeavour to ascertain
the precise force and organization of the Spanish Armada. Should
he be unable to ascertain this information in that quarter, he
was to exercise his own judgment, though circumspectly, as to
where else he should seek it; but, at any hazard, he was to leave
nothing undone that could lead to its acquisition.
He sailed for the Mediterranean direct. The wind, however,
occasionally varied, and, after he had cleared the channel, was
not decidedly in his favour the whole voyage. Upwards of three
weeks elapsed, therefore, before he arrived at the Straits. There
the wind took a turn, and carried him on, with occasional lulls,
till he came in sight of Cape de Gatte. What wind ever doubled
that point? As the good ship “Eliza,” with her crew full of
hope, expecting to sustain no impediment, made it her landmark,
the wind suddenly lulled, and left them off the eternal Cape
becalmed. There they lay for three whole weeks, broiling in the
sun, and rolling in sickening agitation on the long, swollen sea.
But the wind came, at last--a scorching sirocco. Away scudded the
ship, like a water-witch, and, in a fortnight’s time, arrived off
the Bay of Naples. Mounting the Danish flag, Hildebrand ventured,
though against the advice of Master Halyard, to enter the bay,
and there come to an anchor. But though it was one of the chief
ports of the Spanish empire, he saw nothing in the bay, as far
as his observation could push itself, in the shape of warlike
preparation. After several days’ interval, finding that he was
not noticed by the authorities, and, furthermore, that he could
gain no information without some greater risk, he determined to
hazard a visit to the shore, and seek for information among the
disaffected natives. Accordingly, one night, when it came on
very dark, he manned his boat with a picked crew, and set out
for a neighbouring fishing village. He found the inhabitants
more favourable to his design than he had even expected. Without
incurring much risk, he learned, in answer to his inquiries, that
the Neapolitan division of the armada had sailed for Lisbon,
and that the Tagus was to be the rendezvous of the whole force.
Satisfied that he could learn nothing further, he instantly
returned to his ship; and resolved, if possible, to slip out
of the harbour, and take a cruize off the Tagus. The night was
dark; the wind was as fair as could be wished; and the proverbial
indolence of the Spanish authorities, which no emergency could
induce them to discard, made him hopeful that he would be able
to get away unmolested. His expectations were realised, and he
cleared the harbour without difficulty.
When he had gained the open sea, the wind carried him on very
steadily, and at more than an average speed, till he came off the
everlasting Cape, when, of course, it dropped. After the usual
interval of three weeks, however, it returned, and bore him on
to the Straits. Thence he had a fair passage to the north of
Portugal.
The Bay of Biscay is by no means a pleasant district for a
cruizer; and after pitching about there for two whole days, in
the hope of picking up some venturous fisherman, and finally
despairing of such a result, Hildebrand made the bold resolution
of entering the Tagus. With the knowledge that there was
collected there an armada pronounced invincible, which had been
equipped for the purpose of subjugating his country, and effacing
its name from the map of nations--with a perfect conviction that,
if detected, escape, through hosts of foes, and in the face of
a hundred batteries, would be an utter impossibility--sensible
that a mere suspicion of his being an Englishman would lead to
his immediate execution as a spy--this intrepid and fearless man,
without one qualm of hesitation, without one apprehension of
the result, turned his ship about, and steered straight for the
Tagus.