CHAPTER XIII
THE CROSSED HEART
When two impetuous streams join and flow together, their course must needs be swift – whether to flow into the sweet and happy valley, or into the dark and horrid gulf. Thus while my uncle occupied himself in one matter, Lady Biddy busied herself in another, and both to the equipment of this new expedition; so that in an incredible short space of time all provision was achieved, and we were ready to set out.
First there were ships to be procured, and seamen to serve them. For better choice, Sir Bartlemy journeyed over to Portsmouth, taking me with him, and a well-stuffed purse, together with a dozen lusty servants for our safe escort through those lawless and dangerous parts which lay betwixt Truro and Exeter, where no man rides safe.
Being come without mishap to Portsmouth, Sir Bartlemy went to an old acquaintance of his, a broker and a very honest man, and with him we went and examined all those ships that were to sell, choosing in the end two that were after his heart; excellent fair ships too, sound and swift, that had sailed the seas, one two years and the other four; for Sir Bartlemy would have no new ships, but only such as had stood the test of tempest, and were fully seasoned.
While this was a-doing I made a discovery which gave me no little concern. The broker would have us look at a French ship, albeit Sir Bartlemy declared he would trust himself in no timbers that had not grown in England; however, to humor him, we went to the side of the harbor where she lay. But at the first sight of her my uncle turned up his nose, and began to find a hundred faults, finally declaring that nothing good ever came out of France save her wines, and that it would be time better spent to drink a pint of Bordeaux than to go further with the examination of such a cursed piece of shipbuilding. With that he invited the broker to crack a bottle in an adjacent tavern, which they did without further ado. But something in the look of this ship arousing my curiosity, I feigned to have no liking for wine, and getting the broker's leave to visit the ship, I hired a wherry and was carried to her.
La Belle Esperance was her name, and she was painted quite fresh in very lively colors, after the sort of French ships; but for all that when I got on board my suspicions were stronger than ever; for the make of the ship (being little altered) was, as I may say, familiar to me. And straight I went into the coach, and so to the little cabin on the larboard side, and there on a certain timber I sought and found this mark, cut deep in the wood:
Then I knew beyond doubt that this ship, despite its new name and fresh paint, was none other than the Sure Hawk. For this crossed heart was my cipher (making the letters B. P. after a fashion if looked at sidelong) which I had engraved with my own hand and of my own invention.
I needed no further proof, but, being greatly troubled, went straightway ashore. And there finding occasion to speak privately with the broker, I questioned him concerning this ship: how long she had lain at Portsmouth, etc.
"Why, sir," says he, very civilly, "she has been here three weeks, and no more. To tell you the truth, she was a French pirate, though I said nothing of that matter to Sir Bartlemy to add to his prejudice. But she is a good ship, and was taken by some honest Englishmen trading in spices."
"And what was the name of their ship who took this?" I asked.
"That I cannot tell you," he replies, "for their ship was so disabled in the fight that they had to abandon her and come home in this."
"Do you know these men or their captain?"
"No, sir, for they were of Hull; but I believe the captain's name was Adams, for I heard of him yesterday."
"In what respect?"
"It was in this wise. He bought a new ship of a brother broker here – the French vessel being not to his taste, nor big enough for his purpose – and sailed it hence to fit out and victual at Hull, where his crew would fain see their friends; and to Hull we thought he had gone. But my friend having necessity to go to St. Ives, in Cornwall, did there see this very ship, and Captain Adams with his men ashore, all drunk as any fiddlers; which amazed him, so that he spoke of it as a thing not to be understood."
But I understood this well enough, and therefore I laid the whole matter before my uncle, and would have had him go with me to St. Ives, where I doubted not but we should find Captain Adams to be Rodrigues, and so lay him and his rascally crew by the heels, besides seizing his ship for our redress.
But my uncle would not agree to this.
"For," says he, "in the first place, it is a tedious business to stir the Admiralty to our profit, and in that time this Rodrigues – curse his bones! – may get wind of our intent and slip through our fingers; and, secondly, I hold it best not to stir up a sleeping dog, but to get on while one is safe. Added to which, every moment's delay is as much as a year of suffering to Harry."
To this I could make no objection, so I agreed to keep what I knew secret. But I perceived full well that my uncle, had he not openly expressed to his friend such contempt for the French ship (as he thought her) would have let Sir Harry wait until he had proved her to be the Sure Hawk and brought Rodrigues to justice, for he was very revengeful when roused, and full of hatred for the man who cheated him; but because he feared ridicule – having condemned that for worthless which but twelve months before he had bought for the best ship ever built – he would do nothing. For which weakness, God knows, he was fully punished in the end.
Our business being brought to an end at Portsmouth, we sailed our new ships into Falmouth Haven; and their names were the Sea Lion and the Faithful Friend. And here were piles of merchandise waiting to be shipped, for Lady Biddy Fane had faithfully bought and prepared every sort of thing in just proportion as before our going Sir Bartlemy had set down an inventory; and none but a capable woman of stout purpose and strong heart could have done so much.
To work went all to get this store aboard – the very house servants being pressed into service (such as they could compass), under the direction of Lady Biddy; yet could not all be done in a day, nor much less than three weeks, and no time lost.
All this time my mind was exceedingly uneasy, less Rodrigues should hear of our expedition, and seek to do us harm. And with this dread I made inquiries (privately) if during my absence any one had called to see me, and I found no one had asked for me. Then I felt sure that Rodrigues or Parsons and his men were at Penzance, and none others but they. For otherwise to a certainty the wives and sweethearts of those men drawn from Penny-come-quick and Truro to our first venture, hearing as they must of my return, would have sought me for tidings of them. And if they were in communication with those men, then must our enemies know that I had come back, and that another expedition was fitting out. I knew the nature of Rodrigues – subtile and daring wretch! – merciless in the pursuit of plunder, and bloody as those beasts of prey which will kill, though they be too surfeited to eat, their quarry.
At length all was ready for our departure. Lady Biddy having paid off all her servants (save a good wench whom she took with her) sent her plate and treasures to a silver-smith in Exeter; and so, to cut this matter short, put her estate in the hands of a trusty steward, and bade farewell to her friends. We all got on board: my uncle and Lady Biddy in the Faithful Friend, which was the larger and better ship of the two, and I in the Sea Lion. For though Sir Bartlemy would have had me with him, and Lady Biddy said nothing to discourage me therefrom, yet did I feel that it would be better that I should not see her, fearing her beauty might stir up the passion in my breast, and lead me again into evil thoughts.
It was arranged that the breeze proving prosperous the next morning we should depart at break of day; and license was given to the crew to make merry on board till ten o'clock, that they might start with a cheerful heart.
Now while the men were rejoicing after the fashion of mariners, there comes a wherry alongside with a woman in it; and this woman cries out to know if Jack Stone is aboard that ship or the Faithful Friend. There was no man of our crew with that name; but this woman being comely and buxom, with a merry face, the men did pretend that Jack Stone was aboard, but too drunk to stir; and with that they asked her to come up and give him a kiss for farewell.
"Why," says she, coming up the side without more ado, "do you start so soon? Jack told me yesterday you did not set out for a week."
"We sail at daybreak, sweetheart," says the gunner, taking her about the waist.
And this was what she had come to learn, as I feel convinced; for as soon as she had heard as much as was to be pumped out of these fuddled fellows, she left them, and was rowed ashore, never having again asked after the man she called Jack Stone.
The purser being a sober man, I asked him if he knew the woman, and he told me he knew her well for a Penzance woman.
"Then," thinks I, "Rodrigues has brought his ship round to be near us, and he has sent this woman for a spy. From Penzance she has come on this mission, and to Penzance she has returned; and so God help us."
CHAPTER XIV
WE ARE DOGGED BY A BLACK SHIP, TO THE GREAT DISCOMFORT OF OUR COMPANIES
We set sail at daybreak with a fair breeze, and if this had held on, then had we got safely on our way, escaping all danger from our enemy; but being only a land wind, such as frequently blows towards the sun at its rising, we found ourselves an hour after clearing Falmouth Haven in a little chopping gale, where we had much ado, by tacking this way and that, to make any progress at all, to our misfortune. While we were thus pottering to and fro, a sail appeared coming down the Channel, whereupon, my fears being that way disposed, I took into my head at once that this was Rodrigues' ship from Penzance, there having been ample time during the night for the wench who had come aboard to take him intelligence of our intent to sail. Then I begged Captain Wilkins, an excellent good man as ever lived, to let me have the ship's barge that I might go speak with my uncle; to which request he acceded instantly, and the barge being lowered and manned I was carried to the Faithful Friend. Here, taking my uncle aside, I laid out all that had happened the night before, and pointing to the sail bearing down towards us, I gave him my apprehensions, begging he would put back into Falmouth Haven while we yet might. But this would he not do.
"What!" says he, "put back because a sail is in sight! Why, at that rate might we never get out of Falmouth. Never yet did I put back, for I couet it the unluckiest thing a seaman may do; and in this case 'twere nothing short of folly and rank cowardice; for our foe, if foe he be, is but one, and we be two. You have done your duty, Benet, and therefore I do not scold you for doubting my mettle, your own being much softened no doubt by hardship and suffering, Lord help you! But go back at once to your ship, I prithee, and bid Master Wilkins look to his armament, be sober and prayerful, and hold himself ready to lay on to an enemy."
With this comfort I returned to the Sea Lion, and telling Captain Wilkins my fears and my uncle's decision, he lost no time in charging the guns and setting out muskets, swords, and brown bills ready to every hand. Likewise he mustered the crew when all had been prepared, and gave them out a very good prayer, at the same time bidding the men trust to their own defense as well as the mercy of Providence (should we be presently attacked) and give no quarter. To this address would Sir Bartlemy have added a hearty "amen" had he been present, for it was just after his own sturdy heart.
The strange sail bore down to within half a mile of us, being a swifter ship than either of ours, and making way where we could none, etc.; and then she held off on a tack and came no nearer. And though she showed no guns, yet could we see she was a powerful ship, and such as, for the value of her, would not venture abroad in these troublesome times without good arms.
About noon the breeze grew stronger and more steady, and so continued that by sundown we had made in all twelve sea leagues. All this time had the strange sail followed in our wake, standing off never much over half a mile. Then Captain Wilkins and all on board were convinced that this was an enemy seeking to injure us, and it seemed that Sir Bartlemy was equally of our way of thinking, for by means of his signals he bade us double our watch, keep our lamps well trimmed, and hold close to him. And this we did, no man taking off his clothes, but every one who lay down having his arms ready to his hand. For my own part I quitted not the deck all that night; nor could I take my eyes from the lights on board the Faithful Friend two minutes together for thinking of the dear girl who lay there, and whose life and honor were in our keeping.
We could see no lights in our track at all during the night, whereby we hoped that our enemy – as I may call her – seeing not ours, had fallen away in the darkness; but when day broke we perceived her still following us, and no further away than ever, so that we knew she had been guided by our lamps, and had lit none of her own. In short, not to weary the reader, as she had followed us that night and the day before, so she clung to our heels for four days and nights after. And now being off Portugal, Sir Bartlemy might have run into port; but this he would not do; for, firstly, the breeze continued all this time fairly prosperous; and, secondly, his bold and stubborn nature would not permit him to swerve from his course, or show fear of any one.
By this time our company began to murmur because they got no proper rest through constant watching, and because (though they feared no mortal enemy) they began to look upon this pursuing ship as a thing without substance – an unearthly sign of impending destruction, a device of the fiend – I know not what, for seamen are ever prodigiously superstitious and easily terrified by that which passes their comprehension; and it strengthened their dread that this ship was painted black from stem to stern. Indeed, to a mind reasonably free from superstition, there was something dreadful and terrific in this great black ship following us with so great perseverance, which put me in mind of some carrion bird with steadfast patience hovering slowly about wanderers beleaguered in a desert, with some forecast that in the end one must fall to become its easy prey.
These six nights did I get no rest; but only a little dog sleep in the day when my body yielded to the fatigue of watching, my mind being quite disordered with dreadful apprehensions; for well I knew that if by storm we got separated in the day, or by accident of fog or such like lost each other in the night, then would our enemy fall upon us one after the other, and vanish with us; which, though we fought like lions, might well arrive, seeing she was so much greater than either of us, and manned with a greater company, as I could descry through a perspective. My own life I valued not; my fear was all lest Lady Biddy should fall a prey into the wicked hands of that bloody, subtle Rodrigues. What could that dear, sweet creature do to resist? What fate would be hers, being at his mercy? These questions did provoke fearful answers in my anxious imagination, to my inexpressible torment.
At length, on the seventh day, we being then, as Captain Wilkins told me, off the coast of Morocco, and the wind falling to a calm, I took a boat and rowed to my uncle's ship. And when I got aboard I found the company there in not much better case than ours on the Sea Lion, for every man had a sullen and unhappy look on his face, and from time to time cast his eye towards the black ship that lay behind us, for all my uncle pacing the deck did rate them most soundly for not going quicker about the business he set them; swearing at them like a heathen Jew, so that one, not knowing his kind and generous heart, had thought him a very tyrant.
My first thought was of Lady Biddy, and casting my eye up and down the deck to see if her fair face and dainty figure were there, my limbs shook and my teeth chattered together with the intensity of my desire. But she was nowhere visible.
"Well, Benet, what the plague has brought you from your ship?" asks my uncle roughly, as he comes to my side. "What do you fear, that you are spying up and down, your cheeks pale, and your lips on a quiver?"
"Lady Biddy," says I, with a thickness in my voice, "is she well?"
"Ay, and if all on this ship were as stout of heart I should have more reason to be grateful," says he.
"Thank God she is well. May no mischance befall her!" says I in a low tone.
"And what mischance may befall her if we act like men in her defense?"
I cast my eyes towards the black ship, and then said I to my uncle:
"Rodrigues is there, I know."
"You shall lend me your spyglass, for I think you have seen him, to be so cock-sure."
"No, sir, I have not seen him; but I am sure he commands that ship. A painter is known by his workmanship."
"I know nothing of painting and such fiddle-faddle. Speak straight to the purpose, man," says my uncle with a curse.
"Well," says I, "no man but Rodrigues could devise such subtle, devilish means for our destruction."
"In this holding on yet holding off, I see nothing but the device of a fool or a coward, be he Rodrigues or another."
"He is neither a fool nor a coward," says I; "he values his ship and his men too high to attack us at a disadvantage. He knows, as well as you do, that this patient following, while it amuses his company and rests them, is fatiguing ours, and sapping the foundation of their courage."
"I warrant their courage will return to the dogs with the first shot that is fired."
"Then may it be too late; for, you may be sure of this, Rodrigues will not fire a ball until he is sure of our defeat," says I.
"Sure of our defeat! And pray when may that be?" asks he, firing up with disdain.
"When accident helps him either to fall in with his comrade Parsons, or by our getting sundered through some mishap. He has as many men on his ship (as you may plainly see) as we have in both our companies, and more. How are we to combat him singly?"
"Why, with God's help and our own good arms," says he sternly; but the moment after that he turned his eyes towards the black ship, measuring it; and his silence proclaimed that he could not overlook his peril. Presently, in a more subdued tone, he says, "Well, nephew, I doubt not you had some better intention than to damp my spirits in coming here, so if you would offer any advice, out with it, for the love of God, and I promise I will listen with as much patience and forbearance as I may command."
"Sir," says I, "you are making for the Canaries, and there, in all likelihood, is Parsons, awaiting the coming of his confederate, so that we are, as it were, going before the tiger into the lair of his mate." My uncle nodded acquiescence. "Now, if I might advise, I would have you alter your course, and make for the Windward Isles, and so down to Guiana. Then, if Rodrigues does also alter his course, I should draw upon him and seek so to disable him with a shot amidst his masts as he should be disabled from following us further."
"Now, indeed, do you talk good sense, and such as is after my heart," cries he joyfully. "This will I do at once; so go you back and bid Wilkins prepare to shape his course this way."
But seeing that I yet lingered, as loth to depart, he claps me on the shoulder and says, "What else would you have, Benet?"
"Why, sir," says I, "I would have you send another with your message, and suffer me to stay here in his place."
"Why, are you so weak-kneed as that?" says he. "Well, 'tis in the nature of mice to be timorous; but I looked for better stuff in a man of our family."
"Nay," says I; "if I feared Rodrigues I should not ask to stay here, for 'tis this ship he will attack, knowing, as he must, by our sailing, that our general and leader is here."
"Why, that is true," says he; and then he fell into a silence, and looked at me keenly to divine why I wished to stay there. After a little while, marking the hot blood in my face, and knowing it was to be near Lady Biddy that, I sought this change of ships, he put his hands on my shoulders, and says he very kindly, and with a little trembling of pity in his voice, "My poor Benet, the best thing you can do for her sake is to go back to your ship and stay not in this. Ay, and for your own sake it were better too. The enemy you have to overcome is the passion of your own breast, which is more capable to bring ruin to your soul and sorrow to our hearts than are the guns of Rodrigues to endanger our bodies. Go back, dear fellow."
And knowing how this passion had before, by its hopelessness, brought me into evil ways and despair of better, I accepted his guidance and went back to my ship, though with a sore heart.
And going back I saw my lady standing in the stern gallery of the Faithful Friend. But she did not see me, or, seeing me, made no sign; for why should she trouble to descry whether it were I or another sitting there? And clasping my hands together I prayed God (within myself) to dispose of her to her own happiness and His praise.