"Ay, my lord, and now Sir Daniel hath promised her to my Lord
Shoreby," interrupted Dick. "And his promise, for all it is but
young, is still the likelier to be made good."
"'Tis the plain truth," returned his lordship. "And considering,
moreover, that I am your prisoner, upon no better composition than
my bare life, and over and above that, that the maiden is unhappily
in other hands, I will so far consent. Aid me with your good
fellows" -
"My lord," cried Dick, "they are these same outlaws that ye blame
me for consorting with."
"Let them be what they will, they can fight," returned Lord Foxham.
"Help me, then; and if between us we regain the maid, upon my
knightly honour, she shall marry you!"
Dick bent his knee before his prisoner; but he, leaping up lightly
from the cross, caught the lad up and embraced him like a son.
"Come," he said, "an y' are to marry Joan, we must be early
friends."
CHAPTER IV - THE GOOD HOPE
An hour thereafter, Dick was back at the Goat and Bagpipes,
breaking his fast, and receiving the report of his messengers and
sentries. Duckworth was still absent from Shoreby; and this was
frequently the case, for he played many parts in the world, shared
many different interests, and conducted many various affairs. He
had founded that fellowship of the Black Arrow, as a ruined man
longing for vengeance and money; and yet among those who knew him
best, he was thought to be the agent and emissary of the great
King-maker of England, Richard, Earl of Warwick.
In his absence, at any rate, it fell upon Richard Shelton to
command affairs in Shoreby; and, as he sat at meat, his mind was
full of care, and his face heavy with consideration. It had been
determined, between him and the Lord Foxham, to make one bold
stroke that evening, and, by brute force, to set Joanna free. The
obstacles, however, were many; and as one after another of his
scouts arrived, each brought him more discomfortable news.
Sir Daniel was alarmed by the skirmish of the night before. He had
increased the garrison of the house in the garden; but not content
with that, he had stationed horsemen in all the neighbouring lanes,
so that he might have instant word of any movement. Meanwhile, in
the court of his mansion, steeds stood saddled, and the riders,
armed at every point, awaited but the signal to ride.
The adventure of the night appeared more and more difficult of
execution, till suddenly Dick's countenance lightened.
"Lawless!" he cried, "you that were a shipman, can ye steal me a
ship?"
"Master Dick," replied Lawless, "if ye would back me, I would agree
to steal York Minster."
Presently after, these two set forth and descended to the harbour.
It was a considerable basin, lying among sand hills, and surrounded
with patches of down, ancient ruinous lumber, and tumble-down slums
of the town. Many decked ships and many open boats either lay
there at anchor, or had been drawn up on the beach. A long
duration of bad weather had driven them from the high seas into the
shelter of the port; and the great trooping of black clouds, and
the cold squalls that followed one another, now with a sprinkling
of dry snow, now in a mere swoop of wind, promised no improvement
but rather threatened a more serious storm in the immediate future.
The seamen, in view of the cold and the wind, had for the most part
slunk ashore, and were now roaring and singing in the shoreside
taverns. Many of the ships already rode unguarded at their
anchors; and as the day wore on, and the weather offered no
appearance of improvement, the number was continually being
augmented. It was to these deserted ships, and, above all, to
those of them that lay far out, that Lawless directed his
attention; while Dick, seated upon an anchor that was half embedded
in the sand, and giving ear, now to the rude, potent, and boding
voices of the gale, and now to the hoarse singing of the shipmen in
a neighbouring tavern, soon forgot his immediate surroundings and
concerns in the agreeable recollection of Lord Foxham's promise.
He was disturbed by a touch upon his shoulder. It was Lawless,
pointing to a small ship that lay somewhat by itself, and within
but a little of the harbour mouth, where it heaved regularly and
smoothly on the entering swell. A pale gleam of winter sunshine
fell, at that moment, on the vessel's deck, relieving her against a
bank of scowling cloud; and in this momentary glitter Dick could
see a couple of men hauling the skiff alongside.
"There, sir," said Lawless, "mark ye it well! There is the ship
for to-night."
Presently the skiff put out from the vessel's side, and the two
men, keeping her head well to the wind, pulled lustily for shore.
Lawless turned to a loiterer.
"How call ye her?" he asked, pointing to the little vessel.
"They call her the Good Hope, of Dartmouth," replied the loiterer.
"Her captain, Arblaster by name. He pulleth the bow oar in yon
skiff."
This was all that Lawless wanted. Hurriedly thanking the man, he
moved round the shore to a certain sandy creek, for which the skiff
was heading. There he took up his position, and as soon as they
were within earshot, opened fire on the sailors of the Good Hope.
"What! Gossip Arblaster!" he cried. "Why, ye be well met; nay,
gossip, ye be right well met, upon the rood! And is that the Good
Hope? Ay, I would know her among ten thousand! - a sweet shear, a
sweet boat! But marry come up, my gossip, will ye drink? I have
come into mine estate which doubtless ye remember to have heard on.
I am now rich; I have left to sail upon the sea; I do sail now, for
the most part, upon spiced ale. Come, fellow; thy hand upon 't!
Come, drink with an old shipfellow!"
Skipper Arblaster, a long-faced, elderly, weather-beaten man, with
a knife hanging about his neck by a plaited cord, and for all the
world like any modern seaman in his gait and bearing, had hung back
in obvious amazement and distrust. But the name of an estate, and
a certain air of tipsified simplicity and good-fellowship which
Lawless very well affected, combined to conquer his suspicious
jealousy; his countenance relaxed, and he at once extended his open
hand and squeezed that of the outlaw in a formidable grasp.
"Nay," he said, "I cannot mind you. But what o' that? I would
drink with any man, gossip, and so would my man Tom. Man Tom," he
added, addressing his follower, "here is my gossip, whose name I
cannot mind, but no doubt a very good seaman. Let's go drink with
him and his shore friend."
Lawless led the way, and they were soon seated in an alehouse,
which, as it was very new, and stood in an exposed and solitary
station, was less crowded than those nearer to the centre of the
port. It was but a shed of timber, much like a blockhouse in the
backwoods of to-day, and was coarsely furnished with a press or
two, a number of naked benches, and boards set upon barrels to play
the part of tables. In the middle, and besieged by half a hundred
violent draughts, a fire of wreck-wood blazed and vomited thick
smoke.
"Ay, now," said Lawless, "here is a shipman's joy - a good fire and
a good stiff cup ashore, with foul weather without and an off-sea
gale a-snoring in the roof ! Here's to the Good Hope! May she
ride easy!"
"Ay," said Skipper Arblaster, "'tis good weather to be ashore in,
that is sooth. Man Tom, how say ye to that? Gossip, ye speak
well, though I can never think upon your name; but ye speak very
well. May the Good Hope ride easy! Amen!"
"Friend Dickon," resumed Lawless, addressing his commander, "ye
have certain matters on hand, unless I err? Well, prithee be about
them incontinently. For here I be with the choice of all good
company, two tough old shipmen; and till that ye return I will go
warrant these brave fellows will bide here and drink me cup for
cup. We are not like shore-men, we old, tough tarry-Johns!"
"It is well meant," returned the skipper. "Ye can go, boy; for I
will keep your good friend and my good gossip company till curfew -
ay, and by St. Mary, till the sun get up again! For, look ye, when
a man hath been long enough at sea, the salt getteth me into the
clay upon his bones; and let him drink a draw-well, he will never
be quenched."
Thus encouraged upon all hands, Dick rose, saluted his company, and
going forth again into the gusty afternoon, got him as speedily as
he might to the Goat and Bagpipes. Thence he sent word to my Lord
Foxham that, so soon as ever the evening closed, they would have a
stout boat to keep the sea in. And then leading along with him a
couple of outlaws who had some experience of the sea, he returned
himself to the harbour and the little sandy creek.
The skiff of the Good Hope lay among many others, from which it was
easily distinguished by its extreme smallness and fragility.
Indeed, when Dick and his two men had taken their places, and begun
to put forth out of the creek into the open harbour, the little
cockle dipped into the swell and staggered under every gust of
wind, like a thing upon the point of sinking.
The Good Hope, as we have said, was anchored far out, where the
swell was heaviest. No other vessel lay nearer than several
cables' length; those that were the nearest were themselves
entirely deserted; and as the skiff approached, a thick flurry of
snow and a sudden darkening of the weather further concealed the
movements of the outlaws from all possible espial. In a trice they
had leaped upon the heaving deck, and the skiff was dancing at the
stern. The Good Hope was captured.
She was a good stout boat, decked in the bows and amidships, but
open in the stern. She carried one mast, and was rigged between a
felucca and a lugger. It would seem that Skipper Arblaster had
made an excellent venture, for the hold was full of pieces of
French wine; and in the little cabin, besides the Virgin Mary in
the bulkhead which proved the captain's piety, there were many
lockfast chests and cupboards, which showed him to be rich and
careful.
A dog, who was the sole occupant of the vessel, furiously barked
and bit the heels of the boarders; but he was soon kicked into the
cabin, and the door shut upon his just resentment. A lamp was lit
and fixed in the shrouds to mark the vessel clearly from the shore;
one of the wine pieces in the hold was broached, and a cup of
excellent Gascony emptied to the adventure of the evening; and
then, while one of the outlaws began to get ready his bow and
arrows and prepare to hold the ship against all comers, the other
hauled in the skiff and got overboard, where he held on, waiting
for Dick.
"Well, Jack, keep me a good watch," said the young commander,
preparing to follow his subordinate. "Ye will do right well."
"Why," returned Jack, "I shall do excellent well indeed, so long as
we lie here; but once we put the nose of this poor ship outside the
harbour - See, there she trembles! Nay, the poor shrew heard the
words, and the heart misgave her in her oak-tree ribs. But look,
Master Dick! how black the weather gathers!"
The darkness ahead was, indeed, astonishing. Great billows heaved
up out of the blackness, one after another; and one after another
the Good Hope buoyantly climbed, and giddily plunged upon the
further side. A thin sprinkle of snow and thin flakes of foam came
flying, and powdered the deck; and the wind harped dismally among
the rigging.
"In sooth, it looketh evilly," said Dick. "But what cheer! 'Tis
but a squall, and presently it will blow over." But, in spite of
his words, he was depressingly affected by the bleak disorder of
the sky and the wailing and fluting of the wind; and as he got over
the side of the Good Hope and made once more for the landing-creek
with the best speed of oars, he crossed himself devoutly, and
recommended to Heaven the lives of all who should adventure on the
sea.
At the landing-creek there had already gathered about a dozen of
the outlaws. To these the skiff was left, and they were bidden
embark without delay.
A little further up the beach Dick found Lord Foxham hurrying in
quest of him, his face concealed with a dark hood, and his bright
armour covered by a long russet mantle of a poor appearance.
"Young Shelton," he said, "are ye for sea, then, truly?"
"My lord," replied Richard, "they lie about the house with
horsemen; it may not be reached from the land side without alarum;
and Sir Daniel once advertised of our adventure, we can no more
carry it to a good end than, saving your presence, we could ride
upon the wind. Now, in going round by sea, we do run some peril by
the elements; but, what much outweighteth all, we have a chance to
make good our purpose and bear off the maid."
"Well," returned Lord Foxham, "lead on. I will, in some sort,
follow you for shame's sake; but I own I would I were in bed."
"Here, then," said Dick. "Hither we go to fetch our pilot."
And he led the way to the rude alehouse where he had given
rendezvous to a portion of his men. Some of these he found
lingering round the door outside; others had pushed more boldly in,
and, choosing places as near as possible to where they saw their
comrade, gathered close about Lawless and the two shipmen. These,
to judge by the distempered countenance and cloudy eye, had long
since gone beyond the boundaries of moderation; and as Richard
entered, closely followed by Lord Foxham, they were all three
tuning up an old, pitiful sea-ditty, to the chorus of the wailing
of the gale.
The young leader cast a rapid glance about the shed. The fire had
just been replenished, and gave forth volumes of black smoke, so
that it was difficult to see clearly in the further corners. It
was plain, however, that the outlaws very largely outnumbered the
remainder of the guests. Satisfied upon this point, in case of any
failure in the operation of his plan, Dick strode up to the table
and resumed his place upon the bench.
"Hey?" cried the skipper, tipsily, "who are ye, hey?"
"I want a word with you without, Master Arblaster," returned Dick;
"and here is what we shall talk of." And he showed him a gold
noble in the glimmer of the firelight.
The shipman's eyes burned, although he still failed to recognise
our hero.
"Ay, boy," he said, "I am with you. Gossip, I will be back anon.
Drink fair, gossip;" and, taking Dick's arm to steady his uneven
steps, he walked to the door of the alehouse.
As soon as he was over the threshold, ten strong arms had seized
and bound him; and in two minutes more, with his limbs trussed one
to another, and a good gag in his mouth, he had been tumbled neck
and crop into a neighbouring hay-barn. Presently, his man Tom,
similarly secured, was tossed beside him, and the pair were left to
their uncouth reflections for the night.
And now, as the time for concealment had gone by, Lord Foxham's
followers were summoned by a preconcerted signal, and the party,
boldly taking possession of as many boats as their numbers
required, pulled in a flotilla for the light in the rigging of the
ship. Long before the last man had climbed to the deck of the Good
Hope, the sound of furious shouting from the shore showed that a
part, at least, of the seamen had discovered the loss of their
skiffs.
But it was now too late, whether for recovery or revenge. Out of
some forty fighting men now mustered in the stolen ship, eight had
been to sea, and could play the part of mariners. With the aid of
these, a slice of sail was got upon her. The cable was cut.
Lawless, vacillating on his feet, and still shouting the chorus of
sea-ballads, took the long tiller in his hands: and the Good Hope
began to flit forward into the darkness of the night, and to face
the great waves beyond the harbour bar.
Richard took his place beside the weather rigging. Except for the
ship's own lantern, and for some lights in Shoreby town, that were
already fading to leeward, the whole world of air was as black as
in a pit. Only from time to time, as the Good Hope swooped dizzily
down into the valley of the rollers, a crest would break - a great
cataract of snowy foam would leap in one instant into being - and,
in an instant more, would stream into the wake and vanish.
Many of the men lay holding on and praying aloud; many more were
sick, and had crept into the bottom, where they sprawled among the
cargo. And what with the extreme violence of the motion, and the
continued drunken bravado of Lawless, still shouting and singing at
the helm, the stoutest heart on board may have nourished a shrewd
misgiving as to the result.
But Lawless, as if guided by an instinct, steered the ship across
the breakers, struck the lee of a great sandbank, where they sailed
for awhile in smooth water, and presently after laid her alongside
a rude, stone pier, where she was hastily made fast, and lay
ducking and grinding in the dark.
CHAPTER V - THE GOOD HOPE (continued)
The pier was not far distant from the house in which Joanna lay; it
now only remained to get the men on shore, to surround the house
with a strong party, burst in the door and carry off the captive.
They might then regard themselves as done with the Good Hope; it
had placed them on the rear of their enemies; and the retreat,
whether they should succeed or fail in the main enterprise, would
be directed with a greater measure of hope in the direction of the
forest and my Lord Foxham's reserve.
To get the men on shore, however, was no easy task; many had been
sick, all were pierced with cold; the promiscuity and disorder on
board had shaken their discipline; the movement of the ship and the
darkness of the night had cowed their spirits. They made a rush
upon the pier; my lord, with his sword drawn on his own retainers,
must throw himself in front; and this impulse of rabblement was not
restrained without a certain clamour of voices, highly to be
regretted in the case.
When some degree of order had been restored, Dick, with a few
chosen men, set forth in advance. The darkness on shore, by
contrast with the flashing of the surf, appeared before him like a
solid body; and the howling and whistling of the gale drowned any
lesser noise.
He had scarce reached the end of the pier, however, when there fell
a lull of the wind; and in this he seemed to hear on shore the
hollow footing of horses and the clash of arms. Checking his
immediate followers, he passed forward a step or two alone, even
setting foot upon the down; and here he made sure he could detect
the shape of men and horses moving. A strong discouragement
assailed him. If their enemies were really on the watch, if they
had beleaguered the shoreward end of the pier, he and Lord Foxham
were taken in a posture of very poor defence, the sea behind, the
men jostled in the dark upon a narrow causeway. He gave a cautious
whistle, the signal previously agreed upon.
It proved to be a signal far more than he desired. Instantly there
fell, through the black night, a shower of arrows sent at a
venture; and so close were the men huddled on the pier that more
than one was hit, and the arrows were answered with cries of both
fear and pain. In this first discharge, Lord Foxham was struck
down; Hawksley had him carried on board again at once; and his men,
during the brief remainder of the skirmish, fought (when they
fought at all) without guidance. That was perhaps the chief cause
of the disaster which made haste to follow.
At the shore end of the pier, for perhaps a minute, Dick held his
own with a handful; one or two were wounded upon either side; steel
crossed steel; nor had there been the least signal of advantage,
when in the twinkling of an eye the tide turned against the party
from the ship. Someone cried out that all was lost; the men were
in the very humour to lend an ear to a discomfortable counsel; the
cry was taken up. "On board, lads, for your lives!" cried another.
A third, with the true instinct of the coward, raised that
inevitable report on all retreats: "We are betrayed!" And in a
moment the whole mass of men went surging and jostling backward
down the pier, turning their defenceless backs on their pursuers
and piercing the night with craven outcry.
One coward thrust off the ship's stern, while another still held
her by the bows. The fugitives leaped, screaming, and were hauled
on board, or fell back and perished in the sea. Some were cut down
upon the pier by the pursuers. Many were injured on the ship's
deck in the blind haste and terror of the moment, one man leaping
upon another, and a third on both. At last, and whether by design
or accident, the bows of the Good Hope were liberated; and the
ever-ready Lawless, who had maintained his place at the helm
through all the hurly-burly by sheer strength of body and a liberal
use of the cold steel, instantly clapped her on the proper tack.
The ship began to move once more forward on the stormy sea, its
scuppers running blood, its deck heaped with fallen men, sprawling
and struggling in the dark.
Thereupon, Lawless sheathed his dagger, and turning to his next
neighbour, "I have left my mark on them, gossip," said he, "the
yelping, coward hounds."
Now, while they were all leaping and struggling for their lives,
the men had not appeared to observe the rough shoves and cutting
stabs with which Lawless had held his post in the confusion. But
perhaps they had already begun to understand somewhat more clearly,
or perhaps another ear had overheard, the helmsman's speech.
Panic-stricken troops recover slowly, and men who have just
disgraced themselves by cowardice, as if to wipe out the memory of
their fault, will sometimes run straight into the opposite extreme
of insubordination. So it was now; and the same men who had thrown
away their weapons and been hauled, feet foremost, into the Good
Hope, began to cry out upon their leaders, and demand that someone
should be punished.
This growing ill-feeling turned upon Lawless.
In order to get a proper offing, the old outlaw had put the head of
the Good Hope to seaward.
"What!" bawled one of the grumblers, "he carrieth us to seaward!"
"'Tis sooth," cried another. "Nay, we are betrayed for sure."
And they all began to cry out in chorus that they were betrayed,
and in shrill tones and with abominable oaths bade Lawless go
about-ship and bring them speedily ashore. Lawless, grinding his
teeth, continued in silence to steer the true course, guiding the
Good Hope among the formidable billows. To their empty terrors, as
to their dishonourable threats, between drink and dignity he
scorned to make reply. The malcontents drew together a little
abaft the mast, and it was plain they were like barnyard cocks,
"crowing for courage." Presently they would be fit for any
extremity of injustice or ingratitude. Dick began to mount by the
ladder, eager to interpose; but one of the outlaws, who was also
something of a seaman, got beforehand.
"Lads," he began, "y' are right wooden heads, I think. For to get
back, by the mass, we must have an offing, must we not? And this
old Lawless - "
Someone struck the speaker on the mouth, and the next moment, as a
fire springs among dry straw, he was felled upon the deck, trampled
under the feet, and despatched by the daggers of his cowardly
companions. At this the wrath of Lawless rose and broke.
"Steer yourselves," he bellowed, with a curse; and, careless of the
result, he left the helm.
The Good Hope was, at that moment, trembling on the summit of a
swell. She subsided, with sickening velocity, upon the farther
side. A wave, like a great black bulwark, hove immediately in
front of her; and, with a staggering blow, she plunged headforemost
through that liquid hill. The green water passed right over her
from stem to stern, as high as a man's knees; the sprays ran higher
than the mast; and she rose again upon the other side, with an
appalling, tremulous indecision, like a beast that has been deadly
wounded.
Six or seven of the malcontents had been carried bodily overboard;
and as for the remainder, when they found their tongues again, it
was to bellow to the saints and wail upon Lawless to come back and
take the tiller.
Nor did Lawless wait to be twice bidden. The terrible result of
his fling of just resentment sobered him completely. He knew,
better than any one on board, how nearly the Good Hope had gone
bodily down below their feet; and he could tell, by the laziness
with which she met the sea, that the peril was by no means over.
Dick, who had been thrown down by the concussion and half drowned,