L I b RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 82.3 
 
 1855 
 V.I 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/westwardhoorvoya01kin 
 
LATELY PUBLISHED. 
 
 PHAETHON; 
 
 Or, Loose Thoughts for Loose Thinkers. By the Eev. C. Kiin'gsley. 
 Second Edition. Crown 8vo. boards. 2s. 
 
 " The Dialogue of Phaethon has striking beauties viewed apart from its expressed 
 reference to this modern fonn of heresy : and its suggestions may meet half way 
 many a latent doubt, and, like a light breeze, lift from the soul clouds that are 
 gathering heavily, and threatening to settle down in wintry gloom on the summer 
 of many a fair and promising young life." — Spectator. 
 
 " "We cordially welcome Mr. Kingsley into the field of discussion on which he has 
 here entered. It is one in which he is capable beyond nipst of doing the state some 
 service." — British Quarterly. 
 
 " One of the most interesting works we ever reA^." —Nonconformist. 
 
 II. 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 ALEXANDEIA AND HEU SCHOOLS ; ' 
 
 Being Four Lectures delivered at the Philosophical Institution, Edin- 
 burgh. With a Preface. Crown 8vo. cloth. 5s. 
 
 "A series of brief but brilliant biographical and literary sketches, interspersed 
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 writer, do far more towards giving the general public a living conception of those 
 facts than any mere manual or resume of systems." — Spectator. 
 
 CAiEBRiDGE: MACMILLAN & Co. 
 London : BELL AND DALDY, 186, Fleet Stkeet. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
WORKS OF THE EEV. C. KIXGSLEY, 
 
 EECTOR OF ETERSLET ASD CANON OF MIDDLEHAM. 
 
 THE SAINT'S TRAGEDY. Second Edition. 2s. 
 VILLAGE SERMONS. Third Edition. 3s. 6d. 
 YEAST ; a Pboblem. Third Edition. 5s. 
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 ALEXANDRIA AND HER SCHOOLS. 5s. 
 
WESTWAED HO! 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
PRINTED BY R. CLAY, LONDON, 
 
 FOR 
 
 MACMILLAN & CO. CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 ionBon: BELL AND DALDY, 186, FLEET STREET. 
 SuftUn: HODGES AND SMITH. 
 ©Btnburgt): EDMONSTON AND DOUGLAS. 
 OlaSflOto: JAMES MACLEHOSE. 
 ©Iforfi: J. H. PARKER. 
 
 [The Author reserves the right of Tratislation.'] 
 
WESTWARD HO ! 
 
 oa. 
 
 THE VOYAGES AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OP 
 
 Sir AMYAS LEIGH, Kxight, 
 
 ©f Burroug!), tn t$e Olountg of Bebon, 
 
 IX THE REIGN OF HER MOST GLORIOUS MAJESTY 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 RENDERED INTO MODERN ENGLISH 
 
 Br CHARLES KINGSLEY. 
 
 OTambrttige : 
 MACMILLAN & CO. 
 
 1855. 
 
DUX FOEMINA FACTI." 
 
 Motto of the Armada Medals, 1588. 
 

 TO 
 
 THE RAJAH SIR JAMES BROOKE, K.C.B. 
 
 AND 
 
 GEORGE AUGUSTUS SELWYN, D.D. 
 
 BISHOP OP NEW ZEALAND, 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED, 
 
 ^ BY ONE WHO (UNKNOWN TO THEMj HAS NO OTHER METHOD OF 
 rO EXPRESSING HIS ADMIRATION AND REVERENCE FOR THEIR 
 ^ CHARACTERS. 
 
 s 
 
 <^^ 
 
 THAT TYPE OF ENGLISH VIRTUE, AT ONCE MANFUL AND 
 GODLY, PRACTICAL AND ENTHUSIASTIC, PRUDENT AND SELF- 
 
 - SACRIFICING, WHICH HE HAS TRIED TO DEPICT IN THESE PAGES, 
 •^ THEY HAVE EXHIBITED IN A FORM EVEN PURER AND MORE 
 
 ' HEROIC THAN THAT IN WHICH HE HAS DREST IT, AND THAN 
 fr, THAT IN WHICH IT WAS EXHIBITED BY THE WORTHIES WHOM 
 
 "^ ELIZABETH, WITHOUT DISTINCTION OF RANK OR AGE, GATHERED 
 a. 
 
 ^f ROUND HER IN THE EVER GLORIOUS WARS OF HER GREAT 
 
 REIGN. 
 < C. K. 
 
CONTENTS TO VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE 
 HOW MR. OXENHAM SAW THE WHITE BIRD 1 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME THE FIRST TIME 31 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF TWO GENTLEMEN OF WALES, AND HOW THEY HUNTED WITH THE 
 
 HOUNDS^ AND YET RAN WITH THE DEER 82 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 CROST IN LOVE HI 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 CLOVELLT COURT IN THE OLDEN TIME 151 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE COOMBES OF THE FAR WEST 193 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM, OF 
 
 PLYMOUTH 207 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 HOW THE NOBLE BBOTHERHOOD OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED . . 275 
 
WESTWARD HO! 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW MR. OXEXHAM SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 
 
 " The hollow oak our palace is, 
 Our heritage the sea." 
 
 All who have ti-avelled through the delicious scenery 
 of Xorth Devon must needs know the little white town 
 of Bideford, which slopes upwards from its broad tide- 
 river paved with yellow sands, and many-arched old 
 bridge where salmon wait for Autumn floods, toward 
 the pleasant upland on the west. Above the town the 
 hills close in, cushioned with deep oak woods, througli 
 which juts here and there a crag of fern-fringed slate ; 
 below they lower, and open more and more in softly- 
 rounded knolls, and fertile squares of red and green, 
 till they sink into the wide expanse of hazy flats, rich 
 salt marshes, and rolling sand hills, where Torridge 
 joins her sister Taw, and both together flow quietly 
 toward the broad surges of the bar, and the everlasting 
 thunder of the long Atlantic swell. Pleasantly the old 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 HOW MR. OXENHAM 
 
 town stands there, beneath its soft Italian sky, fanned 
 day and night by the fresh ocean breeze, which forbids 
 alike the keen winter frosts, and the fierce thunder heats 
 of the midland; and pleasantly it has stood there for 
 now, perhaps, eight hundred years, since the first 
 Grenvil, cousin of the Conqueror, returning from the 
 conquest of South Wales, drew round him trusty Saxon 
 serfs, and free Norse rovers with their golden curls, and 
 dark Silurian Britons from the Swansea shore, and all 
 the mingled blood which still gives to the seaward folk 
 of the next county their strength and intellect, and, 
 even in these levelling days, their peculiar beauty of 
 face and form. 
 
 But at the time whereof I write, Bideford was not 
 merely a pleasant country town, whose quay was 
 haunted by a few coasting craft. It was one of the chief 
 ports of England ; it furnished seven ships to fight the 
 Armada : even more than a century afterwards, say the 
 chroniclers, " it sent more vessels to the northern trade, 
 than any port in England, saving (strange juxta- 
 position !) London and Topsham," and was the centre of 
 a local civilization and enterprise, small perhaps com- 
 pared with the vast efi'orts of the present day : but wlio 
 dare despise the day of small things, if it has proved to 
 be the dawn of mighty ones ? And it is to the sea-life 
 and labour of Bideford, and Dartmouth, and Topsham, 
 and Plymouth (then a petty place), and many another 
 little western town, that England owes the foundation 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIED. 6 
 
 of her naval and commercial glory. It was the men of 
 Devon, the Drakes and Hawkins', Gilberts and Kaleighs, 
 Grenviles and Oxenhams, and a host more of " for- 
 gotten worthies," whom we shall leani one day to 
 honour as they deserve, to whom she owes her com- 
 merce, her colonies, her very existence. For had they 
 not first crippled, by their West Indian raids, the ill- 
 gotten resources of the Spaniard, and then crushed his 
 last huge effort in Britain's Salamis, the glorious fight of 
 1588, what had we been by now, but a Popish appanage 
 of a world-tp-anny as cruel as heathen Eome itself, and 
 far more devilish ? 
 
 It is in memory of these men, their voyages and their 
 battles, their faith and their valour, their heroic lives 
 and no less heroic deaths, that I write this book ; and 
 if now and then I shall seem to warm into a style 
 somewhat too stilted and pompous, let me be excused 
 for my subject's sake, fit rather to have been sung than 
 said, and to have proclaimed to all true English 
 hearts, not as a novel but as an epic (which some man 
 may yet gird himself to write), the same great message 
 which the songs of Troy, and the Persian wars, and the 
 trophies of Marathon and Salamis, spoke to the hearts 
 of all true Greeks of old. 
 
 One bright summer's afternoon, in the year of gi'ace 
 1575, a tall and fair boy came lingering along Bide- 
 ford quay, in his scholar's gwvn, with satchel and slate 
 
 b2 
 
4 HOW MR. OXENHAM 
 
 in hand, watcliing wistfully the shipping and the 
 sailors, till, just after he had passed the bottom of the 
 High Street, he came opposite to one of the many 
 taverns which looked out upon the river. In the open 
 bay-window sat merchants and gentlemen, discoursing 
 over their afternoon's draught of sack ; and outside the 
 door was gathered a group of sailors, listening earnestly 
 to some one who stood in the midst. The boy, all alive 
 for any sea-news, must needs go up to them, and take 
 his place among the sailor-lads who were peeping and 
 whispering under the elbows of the men, and so came in 
 for the following speech, delivered in a loud bold voice, 
 with a strong Devonshire accent, and a fair sprinkling 
 of oaths. 
 
 " If you don't believe me, go and see, or stay here 
 and grow all over blue-mould. I tell you, as I am a 
 gentleman, I saw it with these eyes, and so did Salva- 
 tion Yeo there, through a window in the lower room ; 
 and we measured the heap, as I am a Christened man, 
 seventy foot long, ten foot broad, and twelve foot high, 
 of silver bars, and each bar between a thirty and forty 
 pound weight. And says Captain Drake : ' There, my 
 lads of Devon, I've brought you to the mouth of the 
 world's treasure-house, and it 's your own fault now, if 
 you don't sweep it out as empty as a stock-fish.' " 
 
 " Why didn't you bring some of they home, then, 
 Mr. Oxenham?" 
 
 " Why weren't you there to help to carry them? We 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. O 
 
 would have bronglit ^em away, safe enough, and young 
 Drake and I had broke the door abroad already, but 
 Captain Drake goes off in a dead faint ; and when we 
 came to look, he had a wound in his leg you might 
 have laid three fingers in, and his boots were full of 
 blood, and had been for an hour or more ; but the heart 
 of him was that, that he never knew it till he dropped, 
 and then his brother and I got him away to the 
 boats, he kicking and struggling, and bidding us let 
 him go on with the fight, though every step he took in 
 the sand was in a pool of blood ; and so we got off. And 
 tell me, ye sons of shotten herrings, wasn't it worth 
 more to save him than the dirty silver? for silver we 
 can get again, brave boys : there's more fish in the 
 sea than ever came out of it, and more silver in Nombre 
 de Dios than would pave all the streets in the west 
 country : but of such captains as Franky Drake, heaven 
 never makes but one at a time, and if we lose him, 
 good-bye to England's luck, say I, and who don't agree, 
 let him choose his weapons, and I'm his man." 
 
 He who delivered this harangue was a tall and 
 sturdy personage, with a florid black-bearded face, and 
 bold restless dark eyes, who leaned, with crossed legs 
 and arms akimbo, against the wall of the house ; and 
 seemed in the eyes of the school-boy a very magnifico, 
 some prince or duke at least. He was dressed (con- 
 trary to all sumptuary laws of the time) in a suit of 
 crimson velvet, a little the worse, perhaps, for wear ; by 
 
6 HOW MR. OXENHAM 
 
 liis side were a long Spanish rapier and a brace of 
 daggers, gaudy enough about the hilts ; Iiis fingers 
 sparkled with rings ; he had two or three gold chains 
 about liis neck, and large earrings in his ears, behind 
 one of which a red rose was stuck jauntily enough 
 among the glossy black curls ; on his head was a broad 
 velvet Spanish hat, m which instead of a feather was 
 fastened with a great gold clasp a whole Quezal bird, 
 whose gorgeous plumage of fretted golden green shone 
 like one entire precious stone. As he finished his 
 speech, he took ofi" the said hat, and looking at the bird 
 in it — 
 
 " Look ye, my lads, did you ever see such a fowl as 
 that before? That's the bird which the old Indian 
 kings of Mexico let no one wear but their own selves ; 
 and therefore I wear it, — I, John Oxenham of South 
 Tawton, for a sign to all brave lads of Devon, that as 
 the Spaniards are the masters of the Indians, we're the 
 masters of the Spaniards:" and he replaced his hat. 
 
 A murmur of applause followed : but one hinted, that 
 he " doubted the Spaniards were too many for them." 
 
 " Too many ? How many men did we take Nombre 
 de Dios with? Seventy-three were we, and no more, 
 when we sailed out of Plymouth Sound ; and before we 
 saw the Spanish main, half were ' gastados,' used up, as 
 the Dons say, with the scurvy; and in Port Pheasant 
 Captain Rawse of Cowes fell in with us, and that gave 
 us some thirty hands more ; and with that handful, my 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 7 
 
 lads, only fifty-three in all, we picked the lock of the 
 new world ! And who did we lose but oiir trumpeter, 
 who stood braying like an ass in tlie middle of the 
 square, instead of taking care of his neck like a 
 Christian ? I tell you, those Spaniards are rank cowards, 
 as all bullies are. They pray to a woman, the idola- 
 trous rascals! and no wonder they fight like women." 
 
 '' You'm right, Captain," sang out a tall gaunt fellow 
 who stood close to liim; "one westcountryman can 
 fight two easterlings, and an easterling can beat three 
 Dons any day. Eh ! my lads of Devon ? 
 
 " For ! it's the herrings and the good brown beef, 
 And the cider and the cream so white; 
 ! they are the making of the jolly Devon lads, 
 For to play, and eke to fight." 
 
 " Come," said Oxenham, '* come along ! Who lists ? 
 who lists ? who'll make his fortune ? 
 
 " Oh, who will join, jolly mariners ail? 
 And who will join, says he, ! 
 To fill his pockets with the good red goold. 
 By sailing on the sea, ! " 
 
 *' Who'll list?" cried the gaunt man again; '' now's 
 your time! AVe've got forty men to Plymouth now, 
 ready to sail the minute we get back, and we want 
 a dozen out of you Bideford men, and just a boy or 
 two, and then we'm off and away, and make oui' 
 fortunes, or go to heaven. 
 
8 HOW MR. OXEXHAM 
 
 " Our bodies in the sea so deep, 
 Our souls in heaven to rest ! 
 Where valiant seamen, one and all, 
 Hereafter shall be blest ! " 
 
 " Now," said Oxenham, '• you won't let the Plymouth 
 men say that the Bideford men daren't follow them? 
 North Devon against South, it is. Who'll join? who'll 
 join ? It is but a step of a way, after all, and sailing 
 as smooth as a duck-pond as soon as you're past Cape 
 Finisterre. I'll run a Clovelly herring-boat there and 
 back for a wager of twenty pound, and never ship 
 a bucketful all the way. Who'll join? Don't think 
 you're buying a pig in a poke. I know the road, and 
 Salvation Yeo, here, too, who was the gunner's mate, 
 as well as I do the narrow seas, and better. You 
 ask him to show you the chart of it, now, and see if 
 he don't tell you over the ruttier as well as Drake 
 himself." 
 
 On which the gaunt man pulled from under his 
 arm a great white buflfalo horn covered witli rough 
 etchings of land and sea, and held it up to the admiring 
 ring. 
 
 " See here, boys all, and behold the pictur of the 
 place, dra'ed out so natural as ever was life. I got 
 mun from a Portingal, down to the Azores ; and he'd 
 pricked mun out, and pricked mun out, wheresoever 
 he'd sailed, and wliatsoever he'd seen. Take mun in 
 your hands now, Simon Evans, take mun in your 
 hands ; look mun over, and I'll warrant youll know 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 9 
 
 the way in five minutes so well as ever a shark in 
 the seas." 
 
 And the horn was passed from hand to hand ; while 
 Oxenham, who saw that his hearers were becoming 
 moved, called through the open window for a great 
 tankard of sack, and passed that from hand to hand 
 after the horn. 
 
 The school-boy, who had been devouring with eyes 
 and ears all which passed, had contrived by this time 
 to edge himself into the inner ring, now stood face 
 to face with the hero of the emerald crest, and got as 
 many peeps as he could at the wonder. But when 
 he saw the sailors, one after another, having turned it 
 over awhile, come forvN^ard and offer to join Mr. Oxenham, 
 his soul burnt within him for a nearer view of that won- 
 drous horn, as magical in its effects as that of Tristrem, 
 or the enchanters' in Ariosto ; and when the group had 
 somewhat broken up, and Oxenham was going into the 
 tavern with his recruits, he asked boldly for a nearer 
 sight of the marvel, which was granted at once. 
 
 And now to his astonished gaze displayed them- 
 selves cities and harbours, dragons and elephants, 
 whales which fought with sharks, plate ships of Spain, 
 islands with apes and palm-trees, each with its name 
 over-written, and here and there, " Here is gold ;" and 
 again, " Much gold and silver ; " inserted most probabl}', 
 as the words were in English, by the hands of Mr. 
 Oxenham himself. Lingeringly and longingly the boy 
 
10 HOW MR. OXENHAM 
 
 turned it round and round, and thought the owner of 
 it more fortunate tlian Khan or Kaiser. Oh, if he 
 could but possess that horn, what needed he on earth 
 beside to make him blest ! 
 
 " I say, will you sell this?" 
 
 " Yea, marry, or my own soul, if I can get the worth 
 of it." 
 
 " I want the horn, — I don't want your soul ; it's 
 somewhat of a stale sole, for aught I know ; and there 
 are plenty of fresh ones in the bay." 
 
 And therewith, after much fumbling, he pulled out a 
 tester (the only one he had), and asked if that would 
 buy it ? 
 
 " That? no, nor twenty of them." 
 
 The boy thought over what a good knight-errant 
 would do in such case, and then answered, " Tell you 
 what ; I'll iight you for it." 
 
 ^'Thank'ee, Sir!" 
 
 " Break the jackanapes' head for him, Yeo," said 
 Oxenham. 
 
 " Call me jackanapes again, and I break your's. Sir." 
 And the boy lifted his fist fiercely. 
 
 Oxenham looked at him a minute smilingly. " Tut ! 
 tut ! my man, hit one of yom* own size, if you will, 
 and spare little folk like me !" 
 
 " If I have a boy's age, Sir, I have a man's fist. I 
 shall be fifteen years old this month, and know how to 
 answer any one who insults me." 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 11 
 
 " Fifteen, my young cockerel ? you look liker twenty," 
 said Oxenliam, with an admiring glance at the lad's 
 broad limbs, keen blue eyes, curling golden locks, and 
 round honest face. "Fifteen? If I had half-a-dozen 
 such lads as you, I would make knights of them before 
 I died. Eh, Yeo?" 
 
 " He'll do," said Yeo ; "he will make a brave game- 
 cock in a year or two, if he dares ruffle up so early at a 
 tough old hen-master like the Captain." 
 
 At which there was a general laugh, in which Oxen- 
 ham joined as loudly as any, and then bade the lad tell 
 him why he was so keen after the horn. 
 
 " Because," said he, looking up boldly, " I want to 
 go to sea. I want to see the Indies. I want to fight 
 the Spaniards. Though I am a gentleman's son, I'd a 
 deal liever be a cabin-boy on board your ship." And 
 the lad having hurried out his say fiercely enough, 
 dropped his head again. 
 
 "And you shall," cried Oxenham, with a great oath; 
 " and take a galleon, and dine oif carbonadoed Dons. 
 Whose son are you, my gallant fellow?" 
 
 " Mr. Leigh's, of Burrough Court." 
 
 " Bless his soul ! I know him as well as I do the 
 Eddy stone, and his kitchen too. AYho sups with him 
 to-night?" 
 
 " Sir Richard Grenvil." 
 
 "Dick Grenvil? I did not know he was in town. 
 Go home, and tell your father John Oxenham will come 
 
12 HOW MR. OXENHAM 
 
 and keep him company. There, off with you! I'll 
 make all straight with the good gentleman, and you shall 
 have your venture witli me ; and as for the horn, let him 
 have the horn, Yeo, and I'll give you a noble for it." 
 
 " Not a penny, noble Captain. If young master will 
 take a poor mariner's gift, there it is, for the sake of his 
 love to the calling, and Heaven send him luck therein." 
 And the good fellow, with the impulsive generosity of a 
 true sailor, thrust the horn into the boy's hands, and 
 walked away to escape thanks. 
 
 "And now," quoth Oxenham, "my merry men all, 
 make up your minds what mannered men you be minded 
 to be before you take your bounties. I want none of 
 your rascally lurching longshore vermin, who get five 
 pounds out of this captain, and ten out of that, and let 
 him sail witliout tliem after all, while they are stowed 
 away under women's mufflers, and in tavern cellars. 
 If any man is of that humour, he had better to cut 
 himself up, and salt himself down in a barrel for pork, 
 before he meets me again ; for by this light, let me catch 
 him, be it seven years hence, and if I do not cut his throat 
 upon the streets, it's a pity ! But if any man will be 
 true brother to me, true brother to him I'll be, come 
 wreck or prize, storm or calm, salt water or fresh, 
 victuals or none, share and fare alike ; and here's my 
 hand upon it, for every man and all ; and so — 
 
 " Westward ho ! with a rumbelow, 
 And hurra for the Spanish main, ! " 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 13 
 
 After wliicli oration Mr. Oxenliam swaggered Into the 
 tavern, followed by his new men ; and the boy took his 
 way homewards, nursing his precious horn, trembling 
 between hope and fear, and blushing with maidenly 
 shame, and a half-sense of wrong doing at having revealed 
 suddenly to a stranger the darling wish which he had 
 hidden from his father and mother ever since he was ten 
 years old. 
 
 Now this young gentleman, Amyas Leigh, though 
 come of as good blood as any in Devon, and having 
 lived all his life in what we should even now call 
 the very best society, and being (on account of the 
 valour, courtesy, and truly noble qualities which he 
 showed forth in his most eventful life,) chosen by me 
 as the hero and centre of this story, w^as not, saving for 
 his good looks, by any means what would be called 
 now-a-days an "interesting" youth, still less a '• highly 
 educated" one ; for, with the exception of a little Latin, 
 which had been di'iven into him by repeated blows, 
 as if it had been a nail, he knew no books whatso- 
 ever, save his Bible, his Prayer-book, the old " Mort 
 d' Arthur" of Caxton's edition, which lay in the great 
 bay window in the hall, and the translation of " Las 
 Casas' History of the West Indies," which lay beside 
 it, lately done into English under the title of " The 
 Cruelties of the Spaniards." He devoutly believed 
 in fairies, whom he called pixies ; and held that they 
 changed babies, and made the mushroom rings on the 
 
14 HOW MR. OXEXHAM 
 
 downs to dance in. "When lie had warts or burns, he 
 went to the white witch at Xortham to charm them away ; 
 he thought that the sun moved round the earth, and that 
 the moon had some kindred with a Cheshire cheese. He 
 held that the swallows slept all the winter at the bottom 
 of the horse-pond; talked, like E-aleigh, Grenvil, and 
 other low persons, with a broad Devonshire accent ; and 
 was in many other respects so very ignorant a youth, that 
 any pert monitor in a national school might have had 
 a hearty laugh at him. Nevertheless, this ignorant 
 young savage, " vacant of the glorious gains" of the 
 nineteenth century, children's literature and science 
 made easy, and, worst of all, of those improved views 
 of English history now current among our railway 
 essayists, which consist in believing all persons, male and 
 female, before the year 1688, and nearly all after it, 
 to have been either hypocrites or fools, had learnt cer- 
 tain things which he would hardly have been taught 
 just now in any school in England ; for his training had 
 been that of the old Persians, " to speak the truth, and 
 to draw the bow," both of Avliich savage virtues he had 
 acquired to perfection, as well as the equally savage ones 
 of enduring pain cheerfully, and of believing it to be 
 the finest thing in the world to be a gentleman ; by 
 which word he had been taught to understand the care- 
 ful habit of causing needless pain to no human being, 
 poor or rich, and of taking pride in giving up his own 
 pleasure for the sake of those who were weaker than 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 15 
 
 himself. Moreover, liaving been entmsted for the List 
 year with the breaking of a colt, and the care of a cast 
 of young haAvks which his father had received from 
 Lundy Isle, he had been profiting much by the means 
 of those coarse and frivolous amusements, in perse- 
 verance, thoughtfulness, and the habit of keeping his 
 temper ; and though he had never had a single " object 
 lesson," or been taught to '* use his intellectual powers," 
 he knew the names and ways of every bird, and fish, 
 and fly, and could read, as cunningly as the oldest 
 sailor, the meaning of every drift of cloud which crossed 
 the heavens. Lastly, he had been for some time past, 
 on account of his extraordinary size and strength, un- 
 disputed cock of the school, and the most terrible fighter 
 among all Bideford boys ; in which brutal habit he took 
 much delight, and contrived, strange as it may seem, 
 to extract from it good, not only for himself, but for 
 others, doing justice among his school-fellows with a 
 heavy hand, and succouring the oppressed and afflicted ; 
 so that he was the terror of all the sailor-lads, and the 
 pride and stay of all the town's-boys and girls, and 
 hardly considered that he had done his duty in his 
 calling if he went home without beating a big lad for 
 bullying a little one. For the rest, he never thought 
 about thinking, or felt about feeling ; and had no ambi- 
 tion whatsoever beyond pleasing his father and mother, 
 getting by honest means the maximum of " red quar- 
 renders^' and mazard cherries, and going to sea when 
 
16 now MR. OXENHAM 
 
 lie was big enough. Neither was he what would be 
 iiow-a-dajs called by many a pious child ; for though he 
 said his Creed and Lord's Prayer night and morning, 
 and went to the service at the church every forenoon, and 
 read the day's Psalms with his mother every evening, and 
 had learnt from her and from his father (as he proved 
 well in after life), that it was infinitely noble to do right, 
 and infinitely base to do wrong, yet (the age of children's 
 religious books not having yet dawned on the world,) 
 he knew nothing more of theology, or of his own soul, 
 than is contained in the Church Catechism. It is a 
 question, however, on the whole, whether, though 
 ^ossly ignorant (according to our modern notions) in 
 science and religion, he was altogether unti'ained in 
 manhood, virtue, and godliness ; and whether the bar- 
 baric narrowness of his Information was not somewhat 
 counterbalanced both in him and in the rest of his 
 generation by the depth, and breadth, and healthiness of 
 his Education. 
 
 So let us watch him up the hill as he goes hugging 
 his honi, to tell all that has passed to his mother, from 
 whom he never had hidden anything in his life, save 
 only that sea-fever ; and that only because he foreknew 
 that it would give her pain ; and because, moreover, being 
 •a prudent and sensible lad, he knew that he was not 
 yet old enough to go, and that, as he expressed it to 
 her that afternoon, " there was no use hollaing till he 
 was out of the wood." 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 17 
 
 So he goes up between the rich lane-banks, lieavy with 
 drooping ferns and honeysuckle ; out upon the windy 
 down toward the old Court, nestled amid its ring of 
 Aviud-clipt oaks; through the grey gateway into the home- 
 close ; and then he pauses a moment to look around ; 
 first at the wide bay to the westward, with its southern 
 wall of purple cliffs ; then at the dim Isle of Luiidy far 
 away at sea ; then at the cliffs and downs of Morte and 
 Braunton, right in front of him ; then at the vast yellow 
 sheet of rolling sandhill, and green alluvial plain dotted 
 with red cattle, at his feet, through which the silver 
 estuary winds onward toward the sea. Beneath him on 
 his right, the Ton'idge, like a land-locked lake, sleeps 
 broad and bright between the old park of Tapeley and the 
 charmed rock of the Hubbastone, where, seven hundred 
 years ago, the Norse rovers landed to lay siege to 
 Kenwith Castle, a mile away on his left hand ; and not 
 three fields away, are the old stones of " The Bloody 
 Corner," where the retreating Danes, cut off from their 
 ships, made their last fruitless stand against the Saxon 
 sheriff and the valiant men of Devon. Within that 
 charmed rock, so Torridge boatmen tell, sleeps now the 
 old Norse Yiking in his leaden coffin, with all his fairy 
 treasure and his crown of gold ; and as the boy looks 
 at the spot, he fancies, and almost hopes, that the day 
 may come when he shall have to do his duty against 
 the invader as boldly as the men of Devon did then. 
 And past him, far below, upon the soft south-eastern 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
18 HOW MR. OXEXHAM 
 
 breeze, tlie stately ships go sliding out to sea. When 
 shall he sail in them, and see the wonders of the deep ? 
 And as he stands there with beating heart and kindling 
 eye, the cool breeze whistling through his long fair curls, 
 he is a symbol, though he knows it not, of brave young 
 England longing to wing its way out of its island prison 
 to discover and to ti'affic, to colonize and to civilize, 
 until no wind can sweep the earth which does not bear 
 the echoes of an English voice. Patience, young Amyas! 
 Thou too shalt forth, and westward ho, beyond thy 
 wildest dreams ; and see brave sights, and do brave deeds, 
 which no man has since the foundation of the world. 
 Thou, too, shalt face invaders stronger and more cruel 
 far than Dane or Norman, and bear thy part in that 
 great Titan strife before the renown of which the name 
 of Salamis shall fade away ! 
 
 Mr. Oxenham came tliat evening to supper as he had 
 promised: but as people supped in those days in much the 
 same manner as they do now, we may drop the thread 
 of the story for a few hours, and take it up again after 
 supper is over. 
 
 " Come now, Dick Grcnvil, do thou talk the good 
 man round, and I'll warrant myself to talk round the 
 good wife." 
 
 The personage whom Oxenham addressed thus 
 familiarly, answered by a somewhat sarcastic smile, 
 and, " Mr. Oxenham gives Dick Grenvil (with just 
 enough emphasis on the " Mr." and the " Dick," to hint 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 19 
 
 that a liberty had been taken with him), "overmuch 
 credit with the men. Mr. Oxenham's credit with fair 
 ladies, none can doubt. Friend Leigh, is Heard's great 
 ship home jet from the Straits'? " 
 
 The speaker, known well in those days as Sir Richard 
 Grenvile, Granville, Greenvil, Greenfield, with two or 
 three other variations, was one of those truly heroical 
 personages whom Providence, fitting always the men to 
 their age and their w^ork, had sent upon the earth whereof 
 it takes right good care, not in England only, but in 
 Spain and Italy, in Germany and the Netherlands, and 
 wherever,' in short, great men and great deeds were 
 needed to lift the mediaeval world into the modem. 
 
 And, among all the heroic faces which the painters 
 of that age have preserved, none, perhaps, hardly ex- 
 cepting Shakspeare's or Spenser's, Alva's or Paima's, 
 is more heroic than that of Piichard Gremdl, as it stands 
 in Prince's '• Worthies of Devon ; " of a Spanish type, 
 perhaps, (or more truly speaking, a Cornish,) rather 
 than an English, with just enough of the British 
 element in it, to give delicacy to its massiveness. The 
 forehead and whole brain are of extraordinaiy lofti- 
 ness, and perfectly upright ; the nose long, aquiline, and 
 delicately pointed ; the mouth fringed with a short silky 
 beard, small and ripe, yet firm as granite, with just 
 pout enough of the lower lip to give hint of that 
 capacity of noble indignation which lay hid under its 
 usual courtly calm and sweetness ; if there be a defect 
 
 c2 
 
20 HOW MR. OXENHAM 
 
 in the face, it is that the ejes are somewhat small, 
 and close together, and the eyebrows, tliough delicately 
 arched, and without a trace of peevishness, too 
 closely pressed down upon them ; the complexion is 
 dark, the figure tall and graceful ; altogether the 
 likeness of a wise and gallant gentleman, lovely to all 
 good men, awful to all bad men ; in whose presence 
 none dare say or do a mean or a ribald thing ; whom 
 brave men left, feeling themselves nerved to do their 
 duty better, while cowards slipped away, as bats and 
 owls before the sun. So he lived and moved, whether 
 in the court of Elizabeth, giving his counsel among 
 the wisest ; or in the streets of Bideford, capped alike 
 by squire and merchant, shopkeeper and sailor; or 
 riding along the moorland roads between his houses of 
 Stow and Bideford, while every woman ran out to her 
 door to look at the great Sir Richard, the pride of North 
 Devon ; or sitting there in the low mullioned window at 
 Burrough, with his cup of malmsey before him, and the 
 lute to which he had just been singing laid across his 
 knees, while the red western sun streamed in upon his 
 high, bland forehead, and soft curling locks ; ever the 
 same steadfast. God-fearing, chivalrous man, conscious 
 (as far as a soul so healthy could be conscious) of the 
 pride of beauty, and strength, and valour, and wisdom, 
 and a race and name which claimed direct descent from 
 the grandfather of the Conqueror, and was tracked down 
 the centuries by valiant deeds and noble benefits to his 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 21 
 
 native shire, himself the noblest of his race. Men said 
 that he was proud: but he could not look round him 
 without having something to be proud of; that he 
 was stem and harsh to his sailors : but it was only 
 when he saw in them anv taint of cowardice or 
 falsehoood; that he was subject, at moments, to such 
 fearfid fits of rage, that he had been seen to snatch the 
 glasses from the table, grind them to pieces in his teeth, 
 and swallow them : but that was only when his indigna- 
 tion had been aroused by some tale of cruelty or oppres- 
 sion ; and, above all, by those West Indian devilries 
 of the Spaniards, whom he regarded (and in those 
 days rightly enoughj as the enemies of God and man. 
 Of this last fact Oxenham was well aware, and therefore 
 felt somewhat puzzled and nettled, when, after having 
 asked Mr. Leigh's leave to take young Amyas with him, 
 and set forth in glowing colours the purpose of his 
 voyage, he found Sir Eichard utterly unwilling to help 
 him with his suit. 
 
 *• Heyday, Sir Richard? You are not surely gone over 
 to the side of those canting fellows, Spanish Jesuits in 
 disguise every one of them, they are^ who pretend to 
 turn up their noses at Franky Drake as a pirate, and 
 be hanged to them ? " 
 
 " My friend Oxenham." answered he, in the senten- 
 tious and measured style of the day, •* I have always 
 held, as you should know by this, that Mr. Drake's 
 booty, as well as my good friend Captain Hawkins's, 
 
22 IIOAV MR. OXENHAM 
 
 is lawful prize, as being taken from the Spaniard, who is, 
 not only ' hostis liiimani generis/ but has no right to the 
 same, having robbed it violently, by torture and extreme 
 iniquity, from the poor Indian, whom God avenge, as 
 He surely will." 
 
 " Amen," said Mrs. Leigh. 
 
 " I say Amen too," quoth Oxenham, *' especially if 
 it please Him to avenge them by English hands." 
 
 " And I also," went on Sir Eichard; " for the rightful 
 owners of the said goods being either miserably dead, 
 or incapable by reason of their servitude of ever re- 
 covering any share thereof, the treasure, falsely called 
 Spanish, cannot be better bestowed than in building up 
 the state of England against them, our natm-al enemies; 
 and, thereby, in building up the weal of the Reformed 
 Churches throughout the world, and the liberties of all 
 nations, against a tyranny more foul and rapacious than 
 that of Nero or Caligula ; which if it be not the cause 
 of God, I, for one, know not what God's cause is ! ' 
 And as he Avarmcd in his speech, his eyes flashed very 
 fire. 
 
 " Hark now ! " said Oxenham, " avIio can speak more 
 boldly than he ? and yet he will not help this lad to so 
 noble an adventure." 
 
 " You have asked his fother and mother : what is their 
 answer?" 
 
 " Mine is this," said Mr. Leigh ; '' if it be God's will 
 that my boy should become hereafter such a mariner as 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 23 
 
 Sir Eicliard Grenvil, let him go, and God be with him ; 
 but let him iii'st bide here at home and be trained, if 
 God give me grace, to become such a gentleman as Sir 
 Eichard Grenvil." 
 
 Sir Eichard bowed low, and Mrs. Leigh catching up 
 the last word — 
 
 *' There, Mr. Oxenham, you cannot gainsay that, 
 unless you will be discourteous to his worship. And for 
 me — though it be a weak woman's reason, yet it is a 
 mother's : he is my only child. His elder brother is far 
 away. God only knows whether I shall see him again; 
 and what are all reports of his virtues and his learning 
 to me, compared to that sweet presence which I daily 
 miss ? Ah I Mr. Oxenham, my beautiful Joseph is gone ; 
 and though he be lord of Pharaoh's household, yet he is 
 far away in Egj^pt; and you will take Benjamin also! 
 Ah! Mr. Oxenham, you have no child, or you would 
 not ask for mine!" 
 
 "And how do you know that, my sweet Madam?" 
 said the adventurer, turning first deadly pale, and then 
 glossing red. Her last Avords had touched him to the 
 quick in some unexpected place ; and rising, he cour- 
 teously laid her hand to his lips, and said — '* I say no 
 more. Farewell, sweet Madam, and God send all men 
 such wives as you." 
 
 " And all wives," said she, smiling, " such husbands 
 as mine." 
 
 " Nay, I will not say that," answered he, with a half 
 
24 HOW MR. OXENIIAM 
 
 sneer — and then, " Farewell, friend Leigh. Farewell, 
 gallant Dick Grenvil. God send I see thee Lord High 
 Admiral when I come home. And yet, why should I 
 come home? Will you pray for poor Jack, gentles V" 
 
 " Tut, tut, man ! good words," said Leigh ; "let 
 us drink to our merry meeting before you go." And 
 rising, and putting the tankard of malmsey to his lips, 
 he passed it to Sir Kichard, who rose, and saying, " To 
 the fortune of a bold mariner and a gallant gentleman," 
 drank, and put the cup into Oxenham's hand. 
 
 The adventurer's face was flushed, and his eye wild. 
 Whether from the liquor he had drank during the day, 
 or whether from Mrs. Leigh's last speech, he had not 
 been himself for a few minutes. He lifted the cup, and 
 was in act to pledge them, when he suddenly dropped 
 it on the table, and pointed, staring and trembling, up 
 and down, and round the room, as if following some 
 fluttering object. 
 
 " There ! Do you see it ? The bird !— the bird wath 
 the white breast !" 
 
 Each looked at the other ; but Leigh, who was a 
 quickwitted man, and an old courtier, forced a laugh 
 instantly, and cried — 
 
 " Nonsense, brave Jack Oxenham ! Leave white birds 
 for men who will show the white feather. Mrs. Leigh 
 waits to pledge you." 
 
 Oxenham recovered himself in a moment, pledged 
 them all round, drinking deep and fiercely; and after 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 25 
 
 hearty farewells, departed, never hinting again at his 
 strange exclamation. 
 
 After he was gone, and while Leigh was attending 
 him to the door, Mrs. Leigh and Grenvil kept a few 
 minutes' dead silence. At last — 
 
 " God help him !" said she. 
 
 " Amen," said Grenvil, " for he never needed it more. 
 But, indeed, Madam, I put no faith in such omens." 
 
 *' But, Sir Eichard, that bird has been seen for gene- 
 rations before the death of any of his family. I know 
 those who were at South Tawton when his mother died, 
 and his brother also ; and they both saw it. God help 
 him ! for after all he is a proper man." 
 
 " So many a lady has thought before now, Mrs. Leigh, 
 and well for him if they had not. But, indeed, I 
 make no account of omens. When God is ready for 
 each man, then he must go ; and when can he go better?" 
 
 " But," said Mr. Leigh, who entered, " I have seen, 
 and especially when I was in Italy, omens and prophe- 
 cies before now beget their own fulfilment, by driving 
 men into recklessness, and making them run headlong 
 upon that very ruin, which as they fancied was running 
 upon them." 
 
 " And which," said Sir Richard, " they might have 
 avoided, if, instead of trusting in I know not what dumb 
 and dark destiny, they had trusted in the living God, 
 by faith in whom men may remove mountains, and 
 quench the fire, and put to flight the armies of the alien. 
 
26 HOW MR. OXEXHAM 
 
 I, too, know, and know not how I know, that I shall 
 never die in my bed." 
 
 " God forefend !" cried Mrs. Leigh. 
 " And why, fair Madam, if I die doing my duty to 
 my God and my queen? The thought never moves 
 me : nay, to tell tlie truth, I pray often enough, that 1 
 may be spared the miseries of imbecile old age, and that 
 end which the old Northmen rightly called ' a cow's 
 death ' rather than a man's. But enough of this. Mr. 
 Leigh, you have done wisely to-night. Poor Oxeuham 
 does not go on his voyage with a single eye. I have 
 talked about him with Drake and Hawkins; and I guess 
 why Mrs. Leigh touched him so home, when she told 
 him that he had no child. " 
 
 "Has he one, then, in the West Lidies?" cried the 
 good lady. 
 
 " God knows ; and God grant we may not hear of 
 shame and sorrow fallen upon an ancient and honourable 
 house of Devon. My brother Stukely is woe enough 
 to Xortli Devon for this generation." 
 
 '^ Poor braggadochio ! " said Mr. Leigh ; " and yet not 
 altogether that too, for he can fight at least." 
 
 " So can every mastiff and boar, much more an English- 
 man. And now" come hither to me, my adventurous 
 godson, and don't look in such doleful dumps. I hear 
 you have broken all the sailor boys' heads already." 
 
 "Nearly all," said young Amyas, with due modesty. 
 " But am I not to go to sea?" 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 27 
 
 *'A11 things in their time, my boy, and God forbid 
 that either I or your worthy parents should keep you 
 from that noble calling which is the safeguard of this 
 England and her queen. But you do not wish to live 
 and die the master of a trawler?" 
 
 '' I should like to be a brave adventurer, like Mr. 
 Oxenham." 
 
 " God grant you become a braver man than he ! for 
 as I think, to be bold against the enemy is common to 
 the brutes ; but the prerogative of a man is to be bold 
 against himself." 
 
 ''How, Sir?" 
 
 " To conquer our own fancies, Amyas, and our own lusts, 
 and our ambition, in the sacred name of duty ; this it is to 
 be truly brave, and truly strong ; for he who cannot rule 
 himself, how can he rule his crew or his fortunes '? Come, 
 now, I will make you a promise. If you will bide quietly 
 at home, and learn from your father and mother all which 
 befits a gentleman and a Christian, as well as a seaman, 
 the day shall come when you shall sail with Eichard 
 Gren\'il himself, or with better men than he, on a nobler 
 eiTand than gold-hunting on the Spanish Main." 
 
 " my boy, my boy !" said Mrs. Leigh, " hear what 
 the good Sir Eichard promises you. Many an earl's son 
 would be glad to be in your place." 
 
 " And many an earl's son will be glad to be in his 
 place a score years hence, if he will but learn what I 
 know you two can teach him. And now, Amyas, my lad, I 
 
28 now MR. OXENIIAM 
 
 ■will tell you for a warning the history of that Sir Thomas 
 Stukely of whom I spoke just now, and who was, as all 
 men know, a gallant and courtly knight, of an ancient 
 and worshipful family in Ilfracombe, well practised in 
 the wars, and well beloved at first by our incompa- 
 rable queen, the friend of all true virtue, as I trust she 
 will be of yours some day ; who wanted but one step to 
 greatness, and that was this, that, in his hurry to rule 
 all the world, he forgot to rule himself. And first, he 
 wasted his estate in show and luxury, always intending 
 to be famous, and destroying his own fame all the while 
 by his vainglory and haste. Then, to retrieve his losses, 
 he hit upon the peopling of Florida, which thou and I 
 will see done some day, by God's blessing ; for I and 
 some good friends of mine have an errand there as well 
 as he. But he did not go about it as a loyal man, to 
 advance the honour of his queen, but his own honour 
 only, dreaming that he, too, should be a king ; and was 
 not ashamed to tell her majesty, that he had rather be 
 sovereign of a molehill than the highest subject of an 
 emperor." 
 
 " They say," said Mr. Leigh, " that he told her plainly 
 he should be a prince before he died, and that she gave 
 him one of her pretty quips in return." 
 
 " I don't know that her majesty had the best of it. A 
 fool is many times too strong for a wise man, by virtue 
 of his thick hide. For when she said that she hoped 
 she should hear from him in his new Drincipality, ' Yes, 
 
SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 29 
 
 sooth,' says he, graciously enough. ' And in what 
 style?' asks she. 'To our dear sister,' says Stukely : 
 to which her clemency had nothing to reply, but turned 
 away, as Mr. Burleigh told me, laughing." 
 
 "Alas for him !^' said gentle Mrs. Leigh. 'SSuch 
 self-conceit — and Heaven knows we have the root of it 
 in ourselves also — is the very daughter of self-will, and 
 of that loud crying out about I, and me, and mine, which 
 is the very bird-call for all devils, and the broad road 
 which leads to death." 
 
 " It will lead him to his," said Sir Richard ; " God 
 grant it be not upon Tower-hill ! for since that Florida 
 plot, and after that his hopes of Irish preferment came 
 to nought, he who could not help himself by fair 
 means has taken to foul ones, and gone over to Italy 
 to the Pope, whose infallibility has not been proof against 
 Stukely's wit; for he was soon his Holiness' closet 
 counsellor, and, they say, his bosom friend ; and made 
 him give credit to his boasts that, with three thousand 
 soldiers, he would beat the English out of Ireland, and 
 make the Pope's son king of it." 
 
 "Ay, but," said ^Ir. Leigh, "I suppose the Italians 
 have the same fetch now as they had when I was there, 
 to explain such ugly cases ; namely, that the Pojoe is 
 infallible only in doctrine, and quoad Pope ; while quoad 
 hominem, he is even as others, or indeed, in general, a 
 deal worse, so that the office, and not the man, may be 
 glorified thereby. But where is Stukely now ?" 
 
30 HOW MR. OXENHAM SAW THE WHITE BIRD. 
 
 " At Rome when last I heard of him, niffling it up 
 and down the Vatican as Baron Ross, Viscount Mur- 
 rough. Earl Wexford, Marquis Leinster, and a title or 
 two more, which have cost the Pope little, seeing that 
 they never were his to give; and plotting, they say, 
 some hair-brained expedition against Ireland by the 
 help of the Spanish king, which must end in nothing 
 but his shame and ruin. And now, my sweet hosts, I 
 must call for serving-boy and lantern, and home to my 
 bed in Bideford." 
 
 And so Amyas Leigh went back to school, and Mr. 
 Oxenham went his way to Plymouth again, and sailed 
 for the Spanish Main. 
 
CHAPTEE 11. 
 
 HOW AMTA3 CA^PF HOilE THE FIRST TIME. 
 
 ** Si taceant homines, facient te sidera notum, 
 Sol nescit comitis immemor es3e sui." 
 
 Old Epigram on DraTce. 
 
 Five years are past and gone. It is nine of the clock 
 on a still, briglit November morning : but the bells of 
 Bideford church are still ringing for the daily service 
 two hours after the usual time ; and instead of going 
 soberly according to wont, cannot help breaking forth 
 every five minutes into a jocund peal, and tumbling 
 head over heels in ecstasies of joy. Bideford streets are 
 a very flower garden of all the colours, swarming with 
 seamen and burghers, and burghers' wives and daughters, 
 all in their holiday attire. Garlands are hung across the 
 streets, and tapestries from every ^vindow. The ships 
 in the pool are drest in all their flags, and give tumul- 
 tuous vent to their feelings by peals of ordnance of every 
 size. Every stable is crammed with horses; and Sir 
 Richard Grenvil's house is like a very tavern, with 
 eating, and drinking, and unsaddling, and running to 
 
32 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 and fro of grooms cancl serving-men. Along the little 
 churchyard, packed full with women, streams all the 
 gentle blood of North Devon, — tall and stately men, and 
 fair ladies, worthy of the days when the gentry of England 
 were by due right the leaders of the people, by personal 
 prowess and beauty, as well as by intellect and education. 
 And first, there is my Lady Countess of Bath, whom Sir 
 Richard Grenvil is escorting, cap in hand (for her good 
 Earl Boui'chier is in London with the queen) ; and there 
 are Bassets from beautiful Umberleigh, and Carys from 
 more beautiful Clovelly, and Fortescues of Wear, and 
 Fortescues of Buckland, and Fortescues from all quarters, 
 and Coles from Slade, and Stukelys from Affton, and 
 St. Legers from Annery, and Coffins from Portledge, 
 and even Coplestones from Eggesford, thirty miles away: 
 and last, but not least (for almost all stop to give them 
 place). Sir John Chichester of Ealegh, followed in single 
 file, after the good old patriarchal fashion, by his eight 
 daughters, and three of his five famous sons (one, to avenge 
 his murdered brother, is fighting valiantly in Ireland, 
 hereafter to rule there wisely also, as Lord-Deputy and 
 Baron of Belfast) ; and he meets at the gate his cousin 
 of Arlington, and behind him a train of four daughters 
 and nineteen sons, the last of whom has not yet passed 
 the Town-hall, Avliile the first is at the Lych-gate, 
 who, laughing, make way for the elder though shorter 
 branch of that most fruitful tree ; and so on into the 
 church, where all arc placed according to their degrees, 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 33 
 
 or at least as near as may be, not without a few sour 
 looks, and shovings, and whisperings, from one high- 
 born matron and another; till the churchwardens and 
 sidesmen, who never had before so goodly a company 
 to arrange, have bustled themselves hot, and red, and 
 frantic, and end by imploring abjectly the help of the 
 great Sir Richard himself to tell them who everybody 
 is, and which is the elder branch, and whicli is the 
 younger, and who carries eight quarterings in their 
 arms, and who only four, and so prevent their setting 
 at deadly feud half the fine ladies of North Devon; 
 for the old men are all safe packed away in the cor- 
 poration pews, and the young ones care only to get 
 a place whence they may eye the ladies. And at last 
 there is a silence, and a looking toward the door, and 
 then distant music, flutes and hautboys, drums and 
 trumpets, which come braying, and screaming, and 
 thundering merrily up to the very church doors, and 
 then cease ; and the churchwardens and sidesmen 
 bustle do^\Ti to the entrance, rods in hand, and there 
 is a general whisper and rustle, not without glad tears 
 and blessings from many a woman, and from some men 
 also, as the wonder of the day enters, and the rector 
 begins, not the morning service, but the good old 
 thanksgiving after a victory at sea. 
 
 And what is it which has thus sent old Bideford wild 
 with that ' godly joy and pious mirth,' of which we now 
 only retain traditions in our translation of the psalms ? 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
3-i HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 AVlij are all eyes fixed, with greedy admiration, on 
 those foiu' weather-beaten mariners, decked out with 
 knots and ribbons by loving hands ; and yet more on 
 that gigantic figure who walks before them, a beardless 
 boy, and yet with the frame and stature of a Hercules, 
 towering, like Saul of old, a head and shoulders above 
 all the congregation, with his golden locks flowing down 
 over his shoulders ? And why, as the five go instinct- 
 ively up to the altar, and there fall on their knees before 
 the rails, are all eyes turned to the pew, where Mrs. 
 Leigh of BuiTough has hid her face between her 
 hands, and her hood rustles and shakes to her joyful 
 sobs ? Because there was fellow-feeling of old in 
 merry England, in county and in town ; and these 
 are Devon men, and men of Bideford, whose names 
 are Amyas Leigh of Burrough, John Staveley, Michael 
 Heard, and Jonas Marshall of Bideford, and Thomas 
 Braund of Clovelly ; and they, the first of all English 
 mariners, have sailed round the world with Francis 
 Drake, and are come hither to give God thanks. 
 
 It is a long story. To explain how it happened we 
 must go back for a page or two, almost to the point from 
 whence we started in the last Chapter. 
 
 For somewhat more than a twelvemonth after Mr. 
 Oxenham's departure, young Amyas had gone on 
 quietly enough, according to promise, with the excep- 
 tion of certain occasional outbursts of fierceness common 
 to all young male animals, and especially to boys of any 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 35 
 
 strength of character. His scholarship, indeed, pro- 
 L,^res3ed no better tlian before ; but his home education 
 went on healthilv enough ; and he was fast becoming, 
 young as he was, a right good archer, and rider, and 
 swordsman (after the old school of buckler practice) 
 when, his father, having gone down on business to the 
 Exeter Assizes, caught (as was too common in those 
 days) the gaol-fever from the prisoners ; sickened in the 
 very court ; and died within a week. 
 
 And now Mrs. Leigh was left to God and her own 
 soul, with this young lion-cub in leash, to tame and 
 train for this life and the life to come. She had loved her 
 husband fervently and holily. He had been often pee^ash, 
 often melancholy ; for he was a disappointed man, with 
 an estate impoverished by his father^s folly, and his own 
 youthful ambition, which had led him up to Court, and 
 made him waste his heart and liis purse in following a 
 vain shadow. He was one of those men, moreover, who 
 possess almost every gift except the gift of the power to 
 use them; and though a scholar, a courtier, and a soldier, 
 he had found himself, when he was past forty, without 
 settled employment or aim in life, by reason of a certain 
 shyness, pride, or delicate honour (call it which you will), 
 which had always kept him from playing a winning game 
 in that very world after whose prizes he hankered to the 
 last, and on which he revenged himself by continual 
 grumbling. At last, by his good luck, he met with a 
 fair young Miss Foljambe, of Derbyshire,, then about 
 
 d2 
 
36 now AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 Queen Elizabeth's court, who was as tired as he of the 
 sins of the world, though she had seen less of them ; 
 and the two contrived to please each other so well, that 
 though the queen grumbled a little, as usual, at the lady 
 for marrying, and at the gentleman for adoring any one 
 but her royal self, they got leave to vanish from the 
 little Babylon at Whitehall, and settle in peace at 
 Burrough. In her he found a treasure, and he knew 
 what he had found. 
 
 Mrs. Leigh was, and had been from her youth, one of 
 those noble old English churchwomen, without supersti- 
 tion, and without severity, who are among the fairest 
 features of that heroic time. There was a certain 
 melancholy about her, nevertheless ; for the recollections 
 of her childhogd carried her back to times when it was 
 an awful thing to be a Protestant. She could remember 
 among them, five-and-twenty years ago, the burning of 
 poor blind Joan Waste, at Derby, and of Mistress Joyce 
 Lewis, too, like herself a lady born ; and sometimes 
 even now, in her nightly dreams, rang in her ears her 
 mother's bitter cries to God, either to spare her that fiery 
 torment, or to give her strength to bear it, as she whom 
 she loved had borne it before her. For her mother, 
 who was of a good fomily in Yorkshire, had been one of 
 Queen Catherine's bed-chamber women, and the bosom 
 friend and disciple of Anne Askew. And she had sat 
 in Smithfield, with blood curdled by horror, to see the 
 hapless court beauty, a month before the paragon of 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 37 
 
 Henry's court, carried in a chair (so crippled was she 
 by the rack) to her fiery doom at the stake, beside her 
 fellow-courtier, Mr. Lascelles, while the very heavens 
 seemed to the shuddering mob around to speak their 
 wrath and grief in solemn thunder peals, and heavy 
 drops which hissed upon the crackling pile. 
 
 Therefore a sadness hung upon her all her life, and 
 deepened in the days of Queen Mary, when, as a 
 notorious Protestant and heretic, she had had to hide 
 for her life among the hills and caverns of the Peak, 
 and was only saved by the love which her husband's 
 tenants bore her, and by bis bold declaration that, good 
 Catholic as he was, he would run through the body 
 any constable, justice, or priest, yea, bishop or car- 
 dinal, who dared to serve the Queen's warrant upon 
 his wife. 
 
 So she escaped : but, as I said, a sadness hung upon 
 her all her life ; and the skirt of that dark mantle fell 
 upon the young girl who had been the partner of 
 her wanderings and hidings among the lonely hills ; 
 and who, after she was married, gave herself utterly up 
 to God. 
 
 And yet in gi\4ng herself to God, Mrs. Leigh gave 
 herself to her husband, her children, and the poor of 
 Northam town, and was none the less welcome to the 
 Grenviles, and Fortescues, and Chichesters, and all 
 the gentle families round, who honoiu'ed her husband's 
 talents, and enjoyed his wit. She accustomed herself 
 
38 HOW AMY AS CAME HOME 
 
 to austerities, wliicli often called forth the kindly re- 
 bukes of her husband; and, yet she did so without 
 one superstitious thought of appeasing the fancied 
 Avrath of God, or of giving him pleasure (base thought) 
 by any pain of hers ; for her spirit had been trained 
 in the freest and loftiest doctrines of Luther's school ; 
 and that little mystic " Alt-Deutsch Theologie," (to 
 which the great Reformer said that he owed more than 
 to any book, save the Bible, and St. Augustine) was 
 her counsellor and ^comforter by day and night. 
 
 And now, at little past forty, she was left a widow ; 
 lovely still in face and figm'e ; and still more lovely 
 from the divine calm which brooded, like the dove of 
 peace and the Holy Spirit of God (which indeed it was) 
 over every look, and word, and gesture ; a sweetness 
 which had been ripened by storm, as well as by sun- 
 shine ; which this world had not given, and could not 
 take away. No wonder that Sir Richard and Lady 
 Grenvile loved her ; no wonder that her children wor- 
 shipped her ; no wonder that the young Amyas, when 
 the first burst of grief was over, and he knew again 
 where he stood, felt that a new life had begun for him; 
 that his mother was no more to think and act for him 
 only, but that he must think and act for his mother. 
 And so it was, that on the very day after his father's 
 fmieral, when school-hours were over, instead of coming 
 sti-aight home, he walked boldly into Sir Richard Gren- 
 vile's house, and asked to see his godfather. 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 39 
 
 " You must be my fotlier llO^Y, Sir," said he firmly. 
 
 And Sir Richard looked at the boy's broad strong 
 face, and swore a great and holy oath, like Glasgerion's, 
 " by oak, and ash, and thorn," that Jie Avonld be a father 
 to him, and a brother to his mother, for Christ's sake. 
 And Lady Grenvile took the boy by the hand, and 
 "walked home with him to Burrough ; and there the two 
 fair women fell on each other's necks, and wept toge- 
 ther ; the one for the loss which had been, the other, 
 as by a prophetic instinct, for the like loss which was 
 to come to her also. For the sweet St. Leger knew 
 well that her husband's fiery spirit would never leave 
 his body on a peaceful bed : but that death (as he 
 prayed almost nightly that it might) would find him 
 sword in hand, upon the field of duty and of fame. 
 And there those two vowed everlasting sisterhood, and 
 kept their vow; and after that all things went on at 
 Burrough as before ; and Amyas rode and shot, and 
 boxed, and wandered on the quay at Sir Richard's 
 side ; for Mrs. Leigh was too wise a woman to alter 
 one tittle of the training which her husband had 
 thought best for his younger boy. It was enough that 
 her elder son had of his own accord taken to that form 
 of life in which she in her secret heart would fain have 
 moulded both her children. For Frank, God's wedding 
 gift to that pure love of hers, had won himself honour at 
 home and abroad ; first at the school at Bideford ; then 
 at Exeter College, where he had become a friend of Sir 
 
40 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 Philip Sidney's, and many another young man of rank 
 and promise; and next, in the summer of 1572, on 
 his way to the University of Heidelberg, he had gone 
 to Paris, with (luckily for him) letters of recommen- 
 dation to Walsingham, at the English Embassy : by 
 which letters he not only fell in a second time with 
 Philip Sidney, but saved his own life (as Sidney did his) 
 in the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew's Day. At Heidel- 
 berg he had stayed two years, winning fresh honour 
 from all who knew him, and resisting all Sidney's 
 entreaties to follow him into Italy. For, scorning to 
 be a burden to his parents, he had become at Heidel- 
 berg tutor to two young German princes, whom, after 
 living with them at their father's house for a year or 
 more, he at last, to his own great delight, took with 
 him down to Padua, "to perfect them," as he ^Tote 
 home, " according to his insufficiency, in all princely 
 studies." Sidney was now returned to England; but 
 Frank found friends enough without him, such letters 
 of recommendation and diplomas did he carry from I 
 know not how many princes, magnificoes, and learned 
 doctors, who had fallen in love with the learning, mo- 
 desty, and virtue, of the fair young Englishman. And 
 ere Frank returned to Germany, he had satiated his 
 soul with all the wonders of that wondrous land. He 
 had talked over the art of sonnetering with Tasso, 
 the art of history with Sarpi ; he had listened between 
 awe and incredulity to the daring theories of Galileo ; 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 41 
 
 he had taken his pupils to Yenice, that their portraits 
 might be painted by Paulo Veronese ; he had seen the 
 palaces of Palladio, and the Merchant Princes on the 
 Rialto, and the Argosies of Eagusa, and all the won- 
 ders of that meeting-point of east and west; he had 
 watched Tintoretto's mighty hand '* hurling tempestu- 
 ous glories o'er the scene; " and even, by dint of pri- 
 vate intercession in high places, had been admitted 
 to that sacred room, where, with long silver beard and 
 imdimmed eye, amid a pantheon of his own creations, 
 the ancient Titian, patriarch of art, still lingered upon 
 earth, and told old tales of the Bellinis, and RafFaelle, 
 and Michael Angelo, and the building of St. Peter's, 
 and the Fire at Venice, and the Sack of Rome, and of 
 kings and warriors, statesmen and poets, long since 
 gone to their account, and showed the sacred brush 
 which Francis the First had stooped to pick up for 
 him. And (licence forbidden to Sidney by his friend 
 Languet) he had been to Rome, and seen (much to the 
 scandal of good Protestants at home) that " right good 
 fellow," as Sidney calls him, who had not yet eaten 
 himself to death, the Pope for the time being. And he 
 had seen the frescoes of the Vatican, and heard Pales- 
 trina preside as chapel -master over the performance of 
 his own music beneath the dome of St. Peter's, and 
 fallen half in love with those luscious strains, till he 
 was awakened from his dream by the recollection that 
 beneath that same dome had gone up thanksgivings to 
 
42 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 the God of heaven, for those blood-stained streets, and 
 shrieking women, and heaps of insulted corpses, whicli 
 he had beheld in Paris on the night of St. Bartholo- 
 mew. At last, a few months before his father died, 
 he had taken back his pupils to their home in Germany, 
 from whence he was dismissed, as he wrote, with rich 
 gifts ; and then Mrs. Leigh's heart beat high, at the 
 thought that the wanderer would return : but, alas ! 
 within a month after his father's death, came a long 
 letter from Frank, describing the Alps, and the yalleys 
 of the Waldenses, (with whose Barbes he had had much 
 talk about the late horrible persecutions,) and setting 
 forth how at Padua he had made the acquaintance of 
 that illustrious scholar and light of the age Stephanus 
 Parmenius, (commonly called from his native place, 
 Budaeus,) who had visited Geneva with him, and heard 
 the disputations of their most learned doctors, which 
 both he and Budgeus disliked for their hard judgments 
 both of God and man, as much as they admired them 
 for their subtlety, being themselves, as became Italian 
 students, Platonists of the school of Ficinus and Picus 
 Mirandolensis. So Avrote master Frank, in a long sen- 
 tentious letter, full of Latin quotations : but the letter 
 never reached the eyes of him for whose delight it had 
 been penned ; and the widow had to weep over it 
 alone, and to weep more bitterly than ever at the 
 conclusion, in which, with many excuses, Frank said 
 that he had, at the special entreaty of the said Budaeus, 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 43 
 
 set out with him down the Danube stream to Buda, 
 that he might, before finishing his travels, make expe- 
 rience of that learning for which the Hungarians were 
 famous throughout Europe. And after that, though 
 he wrote again and again to the father whom he 
 fancied living, no letter in retm'n reached him from 
 home for nearly two years ; till, fearing some mishap, 
 he hurried back to England, to find his mother a 
 widow, and his brother Amyas gone to the South Seas 
 with Captain Drake of Plymouth. And yet even then, 
 after years of absence, he was not allowed to remain at 
 home. For Sir Eichard, to whom idleness was a thing 
 horrible and unrighteous, would have him up and doing 
 again before six months were over, and sent him ofi" to 
 court to Lord Hunsdon. 
 
 There, being as delicately beautiful, as his brother was 
 huge and strong, he had speedily, by Carew's interest and 
 that of Sidney and his Uncle Leicester, found entrance 
 into some office in the Queen's household ; and he was 
 now basking in the full sunshine of Court favour, and 
 fair ladies' eyes, and all tlie chivalries and Euphuisms of 
 Gloriana's fairy land, and the fast friendship of that 
 bright meteor, Sidney, who had retm-ned with honour 
 in 1577, from the delicate mission on behalf of the 
 German and Belgian Protestants, on which he had been 
 sent to the Court of Vienna, under colom* of condoling 
 with the new Emperor Rodolph, on his father's death. 
 Frank found him when he himself came to Court in 
 
44 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 1579, as lovely and loving as ever ; and at the early age 
 of twenty-five, acknowledged as one of the most remark- 
 able men of Europe, the patron of all men of letters, the 
 counsellor of warriors and statesmen, and the confidant 
 and advocate of William of Orange, Languet, Plessis du 
 Mornay, and all the Protestant leaders on the Con- 
 tinent ; and found, moreover, that the son of the poor 
 Devon squire was as welcome as ever to the friendship 
 of natm-e's and fortune's most favoured, yet most unspoilt, 
 minion. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Leigh, as one who had long since learned 
 to have no self, and to live not only for her children, 
 but in them, submitted without a murmur, and only 
 said smiling to her stern friend — " You took away my 
 mastiff-pup, and now you must needs have my fair 
 greyhound also." 
 
 " Would you have your fair greyhound, dear lady, grow 
 up a tall and true Cotswold dog, that can pull down 
 a stag of ten, or one of those smooth-skinned poppets 
 which the Florence ladies lead about with a ring of bells 
 round its neck, and a flannel farthingale over its loins?" 
 
 Mrs. Leigh submitted ; and was rewarded after a few 
 months by a letter sent through Sir Kichard, from none 
 other than Gloriana herself, in which she thanked her 
 for "the loan of that most delicate and flawless crystal, 
 the soul of her excellent son," Avith more praises of him 
 than I have room to insert, and finished by exalting the 
 poor mother above the famed Cornelia; " for those sons, 
 
THE FIEST TIME. 45 
 
 whom slie called her jewels, she only showed, yet kept 
 them to herself: but you, madam, having two as yjre- 
 cious, I doubt not, as were ever that Koman dame's, 
 have, beyond her courage, lent them both to your 
 country and to your queen, who tlierein holds herself 
 indebted to you for that which, if God give her grace, 
 she will repay as becomes both her and you." Which 
 epistle the sweet mother bedewed with holy tears, and 
 laid by in the cedar-box which held her household gods, 
 by the side of Frank's innumerable diplomas and letters 
 of recommendation, the Latin whereof she was always 
 spelling over, (although she understood not a word of it), 
 in hopes of finding here and there that precious excel- 
 lenf.issimus Noster Franciscus Leighius AngJus^ which 
 was all in all to the mother's heart. 
 
 But why did Amyas go to the South Seas ? Amyas 
 went to the South Seas for two causes, each of which 
 has before now sent many a lad to far worse places : first, 
 because of an old schoolmaster ; secondly, because of a 
 young beauty. I will take them in order, and explain. 
 
 Vindex Brimblecombe, whilom servitor of Exeter 
 College, Oxford, (commonly called Sir Yindex, after 
 the fashion of the times,) was, in those days, master of 
 the grammar-school of Bideford. He was, at root, a 
 godly and kind-hearted pedant enough : but, like most 
 schoolmasters in the old flogging days, had his heart 
 pretty well hardened by long baneful licence to inflict 
 pain at will on those weaker than himself; a power 
 
46 now AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 healthful enough for the victhn, (for doubtless flogging 
 is the best of all punishments, being not only the 
 shortest, but also a mere bodily and animal, and not, 
 like most of our new-fangled "humane" punishment, a 
 spiritual and fiendish torture), but for the executioner 
 pretty certain to eradicate from all but the noblest 
 spirits every trace of chivalry and tenderness for the 
 weak, as well, often, as all self-control and command of 
 temper. Be that as it may, old Sir Vindex had heart 
 enough to feel that it was now his duty to take especial 
 care of the fatherless boy to whom he tried to teach his 
 qui, qua, quod : but the only outcome of that new sense 
 of responsibility was a rapid increase in the number of 
 floggings, which rose from about two a week, to one per 
 diem, not without consequences to the pedagogiie him- 
 self. 
 
 For all this while, Amyas had never for a moment lost 
 sight of his darling desire for a sea life ; and when he 
 could not wander on the quay and stare at the shipping, 
 or go down to the pebble-ridge at Nortliam, and there 
 sit devouring with hungry eyes the great expanse of 
 ocean, which seemed to woo him outward into boundless 
 space, he used to console himself in scliool-hours by 
 drawing ships, and imaginary charts upon his slate, 
 instead of minding his " humanities." 
 
 Now it befel upon an afternoon, that he was very busy 
 at a map, or bird's eye view of an island, whereon was 
 a great castle, and at the gate tlicreof a dragon, terrible 
 
THE FIK8T TIME. 47 
 
 to see ; wliile in tlie foreground came that "wliich was 
 meant for a gallant ship, with a great flag aloft, hut 
 which, hy reason of the forest of lances with which it 
 was crowded, looked much more like a porcupine 
 carrj^ing a sign-post; and at the roots of those lances 
 many little round o's, whereby were signified the heads 
 of Amyas and his schoolfellows, who were ahout to slay 
 that dragon, and rescue the beautiful princess who dwelt 
 in that enchanted tower. To behold which marvel of 
 art, all the other boys at the same desk must needs 
 club their heads together, and with the more security, 
 because Sir Yindex, as was his custom after dinner, was 
 lying back in his chair, and slept the sleep of the just. 
 
 But when Amyas, by special instigation of the evil 
 spirit who haunts successful artists, proceeded furtlier to 
 introduce, heedless of perspective, a rock, on which stood 
 the lively portraiture of Sir Yindex — nose, spectacles. 
 gown, and all ; and in his hand a brandished rod, while 
 out of his mouth a label shrieked after the runaways, 
 " You come back I " while a similar label replied from 
 the gallant bark, " Good-bye, Master!" the shoving and 
 tittering rose to such a pitch, that Cerberus awoke, and 
 demanded sternly what the noise was about. To which, 
 of course, there was no answer. 
 
 '• You, of course, Leigh I Come up. Sir, and show 
 me your exercitation." 
 
 Now of Amyas's exercitation not a word was written ; 
 and, moreover, he was in the very article of putting the 
 
48 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 last touches to Mr. Bvimblecombe's portrait. Whereon, 
 to the astonishment of all hearers, he made answer — 
 
 " All in good time, Sir !" and went on drawing. 
 
 " In good time. Sir ! Insolent, veni et vapula .^" 
 
 But Amyas went on drawing. 
 
 " Come hither, Sirrah, or I'll flay you alive ! " 
 
 " "Wait a bit !" answered Amyas. 
 
 The old gentleman jumped up, ferula in hand, and 
 darted across the school, and saw himself upon the 
 fatal slate. 
 
 '■^ Prohflagitium! Avhat have we here, villain ? " and 
 clutching at his victim, he raised the cane. Where- 
 upon, with a serene and cheerful countenance, up rose 
 the mighty form of Amyas Leigh, a head and shoulders 
 above his tormentor, and that slate descended on the 
 bald coxcomb of Sir Vindex Brimblecombe, with so 
 shrewd a blow, that slate and pate cracked at the same 
 instant, and the poor pedagogue dropped to the floor, 
 and lay for dead. 
 
 After which Amyas arose, and walked out of the 
 school, and so quietly home; and having taken counsel 
 with himself, went to his mother, and said, " Please, 
 mother, I've broken schoolmaster's head." 
 
 " Broken his head, thou wicked boy ! " shrieked the 
 poor widow ; " what didst do that for ? " 
 
 " I can't tell," said Amyas, penitently ; " I couldn't 
 help it. It looked so smooth, and bald, and round, and 
 ■ — you know?" 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 49 
 
 " I know? Oh, wicked boy! thou liast given place 
 to the devil; and now, perhaps, thou hast killed him." 
 
 " Killed the devil?" asked Amjas, hopefully, but 
 doubtfully. 
 
 " No, killed the schoolmaster, sirrah ! Is he dead? " 
 
 *' I don^t think he's dead ; his coxcomb sounded too 
 hard for that. But had not I better go and tell Sir 
 Eichard?" 
 
 The poor mother could hardly help laughing, in 
 spite of her teiTor, at Amyas's perfect coolness (which 
 was not in the least meant for insolence), and being at 
 her wits' end, sent him as usual to his godfather. 
 
 Amyas rehearsed his story again, with pretty nearly 
 the same exclamations, to which he gave pretty nearly 
 the same answers ; and then — 
 
 " What was he going to do to you, then, sirrah ? " 
 
 " Flog me, because I could not write my exercise, 
 and so drew a picture of him instead." 
 
 " What! art afraid of being flogged?" 
 
 " Not a bit ; besides, I'm too much accustomed to it ; 
 but I was busy, and he was in such a desperate hurry ; 
 and, oh. Sir, if you had but seen his bald head, you 
 would have broken it yourself!" 
 
 Now Sir Richard had, twenty years ago, in like 
 place, and very much in like manner, broken the head 
 of Vindex Brimblccombe's father, schoolmaster in his 
 day ; and therefore had a precedent to direct him ; and 
 he answered" 
 
 3 
 VOL. I. E 
 
50 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 " Amy as, sirrah ! those who cannot obey, will never 
 be fit to rule. If thou canst not keep discipline now, 
 thou wilt never make a company or a crew keep it when 
 thou art grown. Dost mind that, sirrah?" 
 " Yes," said Amy as. 
 
 " Then go back to school this moment, Sir, and be 
 flogged." 
 
 " Very well," said Amyas, considering that he had 
 got off very cheaply ; while Sir Richard, as soon as he 
 was out of the room, lay back in his chair, and laughed 
 till he cried again. 
 
 So Amyas went back, and said that he was come 
 to be flogged ; whereon the old schoolmaster, whose 
 pate had been plastered meanwhile, wept tears of 
 joy over the returning prodigal, and then gave him 
 such a switching as he did not forget for eight-and- 
 forty hours. 
 
 But that evening Sir Eichard sent for old Yindex, 
 who entered trembling, cap in hand ; and ha\dng 
 primed him with a cup of sack, said, — 
 
 " Well, Mr. Schoolmaster ! My godson has been 
 somewhat too much for you to-day. There are a 
 couple of nobles to pay the doctor." 
 
 " O Sir Richard, gratias tihi et Domino ! but the boy 
 hits shrewdly hard. Nevertheless I have repaid him in 
 inverse kind, and set him an imposition, to learn me 
 one of Phaidrus his fables. Sir Richard, if you do not 
 think it too much." 
 
THE FIRST TUIE 51 
 
 "Which then ? The one about the man who brought 
 up a lion's cub, and was eaten by him in pLaj at 
 kst?" 
 
 " Ah, Sir Richard ! you have always a merry wit. 
 But, indeed, the boy is a brave boy, and a quick boy, Sir 
 Richard, but more forgetful than Lethe ; and — sapienti 
 loquor — it were well if he were away, for I shall never 
 see him again without my head aching. Moreover, he 
 put my son Jack upon the fire last Wednesday, as you 
 would put a foot -ball, though he is a year older, your 
 Worship, because, he said, he looked so like a roasting 
 pig, Sir Richard." 
 
 " Alas, poor Jack ! " 
 
 " And what's more, yom* Worship, he is pugnax, 
 heUicosus, gladiator, a fire-eater and swash-buckler, be- 
 yond all Christian measure ; a very sucking Entellus, 
 Sir Richard, and will do to death some of her majesty's 
 lieges ere long, if he be not wisely curbed. It was but 
 a month agone that he bemoaned himself, I hear, as 
 Alexander did, because there were no more worlds to 
 conquer, saying that it was a pity he was so strong, for 
 now he had thrashed all the Bideford lads, he had no 
 sport left; and so, as my Jack tells me, last Tuesday 
 week he fell upon a young man of Barnstaple, Sir 
 Richard, a hosier's man. Sir, Sindplebems (which I con- 
 sider unfit for one of his blood), and, moreover, a man 
 full grown, and as big as either of us (Vindex stood 
 five feet four in his high-heeled shoes), and smote him 
 
 e2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UfilVERSIlT OF ILUNOtS 
 
52 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 clean over the quay into tlie mud, because he said that 
 there was a prettier maid in Barnstaple (your Worship 
 will forgive my speaking of such toys, to which my 
 fidelity compels me) than ever Bideford could show ; and 
 then offered to do the same to any man who dare say 
 that Mistress Kose Salterne, his Worship the Mayor's 
 daughter, was not the fairest lass in all Devon." 
 
 " Eh ? Say that over again, my good Sir," quoth 
 Sir Richard, who had thus amved, as we have seen, to 
 the second count of the indictment. 
 
 " I say, good Sir, whence dost thou hear all these 
 pretty stories?" 
 
 *' My son Jack, Sir Richard, my son Jack, ingenui 
 vultiLS fuerT 
 
 " But not, it seems, ingenui j)udmis. Tell thee what, 
 Mr. Schoolmaster, no wonder if thy son gets put on the 
 fire, if thou employ him as a tale-bearer.^ But that is 
 the way of all pedagogues and their sons, by which 
 they train the lads up eaves-droppers and favour- 
 cumers, and prepare them, — sirrah, do you hear? — 
 for a much more lasting and hotter fire than that 
 which has scorched thy son Jack's nether-tackle. Do 
 you mark me. Sir?" 
 
 The poor pedagogue, thus cunningly caught in his 
 own trap, stood trembling before his patron, who, as 
 hereditary head of the Bridge-trust, which endowed 
 the school and the rest of the Bideford charities, could, 
 by a turn of his finger, sweep him forth with the besom 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 53 
 
 of destruction ; and he gasped with terror as Sir Richard 
 went on — 
 
 " Therefore, mind you, Sir Schoolmaster, unless you 
 shall promise me never to hint word of what has 
 passed between us two, and that neither you nor yours 
 shall henceforth carry tales of my godson, or speak his 
 name within a day's march of Mistress Salterne's, look 
 to it, Sir, if I do not — " 
 
 What was to be done in default was not spoken ; for 
 down went poor old Vindex on his knees : — 
 
 " Oh, Sir Kichard ! Excellentissime, immo jyrcRcel- 
 sissime Domine et Se?iator, I promise ! Sir, 31iles et 
 Eques of the Garter, Bath, and Golden Fleece, consider 
 your dignities, and my old age — and my great family, 
 nine children — oh. Sir Richard, and eight of them girls ! 
 — Do eagles war with mice? says the ancient !" 
 
 " Thy large family, eh? How old is that fat-witted 
 son of thine?" 
 
 " Sixteen, Sir Richard ; but that is not his fault, 
 indeed!" 
 
 " Nay, I suppose he would be still sucking his thumb 
 if he dared — get up, man — get up, and seat yourself." 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! " murmured poor Yindex, with 
 deep humility. 
 
 " Why is not the rogue at Oxford, with a murrain on 
 him, instead of lurching about here carrying tales, and 
 ogling the maidens ?" 
 
 " I had hoped, Sir Richard — and therefore I said it 
 
54 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 was not his fault — but there was never a servitorship at 
 Exeter open." 
 
 " Go to, man — go to ! I will speak to my brethren 
 of the trust, and to Oxford he shall go this autumn, or 
 else to Exeter gaol, for a strong rogue, and a masterless 
 man. Do you hear ?" 
 
 " Hear?— oh, Sir, yes! and return thanks. Jack 
 shall go, Sir Kichard, doubt it not — I were mad else ; 
 and, Sir Richard, may I go too?" 
 
 And therewith Vindex vanished, and Sir Richard 
 enjoyed a second mighty laugh, which brought in Lady 
 Grenvile, who possibly had overheard the whole ; for 
 the first words she said were — 
 
 " I think, my sweet life, we had better go up to 
 Burrough." 
 
 So to Burrough they went ; and after much talk, 
 and many tears, matters were so concluded that Amyas 
 Leigh found himself riding joyfully towards Pl}Tnouth, 
 by the side of Sir Richard, and being handed over to 
 Captain Drake, vanished for three years from the good 
 town of Bideford. 
 
 And now ne is returned in triumph, and the observed 
 of all observers ; and looks round and round, and sees 
 all faces whom he expects, except one ; and that the 
 one which he had rather see than his mother's? He 
 is not quite sure. Shame on himself! 
 
 And now the prayers being ended, the Rector ascends 
 the pulpit, and begins his sermon on the text : — 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 55 
 
 " The heaven and the heaven of heavens are the 
 Lord's ; the whole earth hath he given to the cliildren 
 of men ; " deducmg therefrom craftily, to the exceeding 
 pleasure of his hearers, the iniquity of the Spaniards in 
 dispossessing the Indians, and in aiTOgating to them- 
 selves the sovereignty of the tropic seas ; the vanity 
 of the Pope of Rome in pretending to bestow on them 
 the new countries of America ; and the justice, valour, 
 and glory of Mr. Drake and his expedition, as tes- 
 tified by God's miraculous protection of him and his, 
 both in the Straits of 3Iagellan, and in his battle 
 with the Galleon ; and last, but not least, upon the 
 rock by Celebes, when the Pelican lay for hours firmly 
 fixed, and was floated off unhui't, as it were by miracle, 
 by a sudden shift of wind. 
 
 Aye, smile, reader, if you will; and, perhaps, there 
 was matter for a smile in that honest sermon, interlarded, 
 as it was, with scraps of Greek and Hebrew, wdiich no 
 one understood, but every one expected as their right ; 
 (for a preacher was nothing then who could not prove 
 himself " a good Latiner,") and graced, moreover, by 
 a somewhat pedantic and lengthy refutation from 
 Scripture of Dan Horace's cockney horror of the 
 
 sea- 
 
 *' Illi robur et sos triplex," &c. 
 
 and his infidel and ungodly slander against the " impias 
 rates," and their crews. 
 
5Q HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 Smile, if you will : but those were days (and there 
 were never less superstitious ones), in which Englishmen 
 believed in the living God, and were not ashamed to 
 acknowledge, as a matter of course. His help and provi- 
 dence, and calling, in the matters of daily life, which we 
 now in our covert Atheism term '' secular and carnal;" 
 and when, the sermon ended, the Communion Service 
 had begun, and the bread and the wine were given to 
 those five mariners, every gallant gentleman who stood 
 near them, (for the press would not allow of more,) 
 knelt and received the elements with them as a thing 
 of course, and then rose to join with heart and voice not 
 merely in the Gloria in Excelsts, hut in the TeDeum, which. 
 was the closing act of all. And no sooner had the clerk 
 given out the first verse of that great hymn, than it was 
 taken up by five hundred voices within the church, in 
 bass and tenor, treble and alto, (for every one could 
 sing in those days, and the west country folk, as now, 
 were fuller than any of music,) the chaunt was caught up 
 by the crowd outside, and rang away over roof and river, 
 up to the wood^ of Annery, and down to the marshes 
 of the Taw, in wave on wave of harmony. And as it 
 died away, the shipping in the river made answer with 
 their thunder, and the crowd streamed out again toward 
 the Bridge Head, whither Sir Richard Grenvile, and 
 Sir John Chichester, and !Mr. Salterne, the Mayor, led 
 the five heroes of the day to await the pageant which 
 had been prepared in honour of them. And as they went 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 57 
 
 "by, there were few in the crowd who did not press for- 
 ward to shake them by the hand, and not only them, 
 but their parents and kinsfolk who walked behind, till 
 Mrs. Leigh, her stately joy quite broken down at last, 
 could only answer between her sobs, " Go along, good 
 people — God a mercy, go along — and God send you all 
 such sons !" 
 
 "God give me back mine !" cried an old red-cloked 
 dame in the crowd ; and then, struck by some hidden 
 impulse, she sprang forward, and catching hold of young 
 Amyas's sleeve — 
 
 " Kind Sir ! dear Sir ! For Christ his sake answer 
 a poor old widow woman ! " 
 
 " What is it, dame?" quoth Amyas, gently enough. 
 
 " Did you see my son to the Indies? — my son Salva- 
 tion?" 
 
 "Salvation?" replied he, with the air of one who 
 recollected the name. 
 
 " Yes, sure, Salvation Yeo, of Clovelly. A tall man 
 and black, and sweareth awfully in his talk, the Lord 
 forgive him !" 
 
 Amyas recollected now. It was the name of the sailor 
 who had given him the wondrous horn live years ago. 
 
 " My good dame," said he, " the Indies are a very 
 large place, and your son may be safe and sound enough 
 there, without my having seen him. I knew one Salva- 
 tion Yeo. But he must have come with . By-the- 
 
 bye, godfather, has Mr. Oxenham come home?" 
 
58 now AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 There was a dead silence for a moment among tlie 
 gentlemen romid ; and then Sir Richard said solemnly, 
 and in a low voice, turning away from the old 
 dame, — 
 
 " Amyas, Mr. Oxenham has not come home ; and 
 from the day he sailed, no word has been heard of him, 
 and all his crew." 
 
 "Oh, Sir Richard! and you kept me from sailing 
 Avith liim ! Had I knoAvn this before I went into 
 church, I had had one mercy more to thank God for." 
 
 "Thank Him all the more in thy life, my child!" 
 whispered his mother. 
 
 "And no news of him whatsoever?" 
 
 " None ; but that the year after he sailed, a ship 
 belonging to Andrew Barker, of Bristol, took , out of 
 a Spanish caravel, somewhere off the Honduras, his two 
 brass gims : but Avhence they came the Spaniard knew 
 not, having bought them at Nombre de Dios." 
 
 "Yes!" cried the old woman ; "they brought home 
 the guns, and never brought home my boy !" 
 
 " They never saw your boy, mother," said Sir 
 Richard. 
 
 " But I've seen him ! I saw him in a dream four 
 years last Whitsuntide, as plain as I see you now, 
 gentles, a-lying upon a rock, calling for a drop of water 
 to cool his tongue, like Dives to the torment ! Oh ! 
 dear me !" and the old dame wept bitterly. 
 
 "There is a rose noble for you!" said Mrs. Leigh. 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 59 
 
 "And there another!" said Sir Richard. And in 
 a few minutes four or five gold coins were in her hand. 
 But the old dame did hut look wonderingly at the gold 
 a moment, and then — 
 
 " Ah ! dear gentles, God's blessing on jou, and 
 Mr. Caiy 's mighty good to me already ; but gold won't 
 buy back childer ! O ! young gentleman ! young gentle- 
 man ! make me a promise ; if 3'ou want God's blessing 
 on you this day^ bring me back my boy, if you find 
 him sailing on the seas ! Bring him back, and an old 
 widow's blessins; be on vou!" 
 
 Amyas promised — what else could he do? — and the 
 group hm-ried on ; but the lad's heart was heav}" in the 
 midst of joy, with the thought of John Oxenham, as he 
 walked through the churchyard, and down the short 
 street which led between the ancient school and the still 
 more ancient town-house, to the head of the long bridge, 
 across which the pageant, having been aiTanged " east- 
 the-water," was to defile, and then turn to the right 
 along the quay. 
 
 However, he was bound in all courtesy to turn his 
 attention now to the show which had been prepared in 
 his honour; and which was really well enough worth 
 seeing and hearing. The English were, in those days, 
 an altogether dramatic people ; ready and able, as in 
 Bideford that day, to extemporize a pageant, a masque, 
 or any effort of the Thespian art short of the regular 
 drama. For they were, in the first place, even down to 
 
60 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 the very poorest, a well-fed people, with fewer luxuries 
 than we, but more abundant necessaries; and while 
 beef, ale, and good woollen clothes could be obtained in 
 plenty, without overworking either body or soul, men 
 had time to amuse themselves in something more intel- 
 lectual than mere toping in pothouses. Moreover, the 
 half century after the Reformation in England, was one 
 not merely of new intellectual freedom, but of immense 
 animal good spirits. After years of dumb confusion 
 and cruel persecution, a breathing time had come : Mary 
 and the fires of Smithfield had vanished together like 
 a hideous dream, and the mighty shout of joy which 
 greeted Elizabeth's entry into London, was the key-note 
 of fifty glorious years ; the expression of a new-found 
 strength and freedom, which vented itself at home in 
 drama and in song ; abroad in mighty conquests, 
 achieved with the laughing recklessness of boys at 
 play. 
 
 So first, preceded by the waits, came along the bridge 
 toward the town-hall, a device prepared by the good 
 .ector, who, standing by, acted as showman, and ex- 
 plained anxiously to the bystanders the import of a 
 certain " allegory," wherein on a great banner was 
 depicted Queen Elizabeth herself, who, in ample ruff 
 and farthingale, a Bible in one hand and a sword in the 
 other, stood triumphant upon the necks of two suffi- 
 ciently abject personages, whose triple tiara and impe- 
 rial crown proclaimed them the Pope and the King of 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 61 
 
 Spain ; while a label, issuing from her royal mouth. 
 informed the world that — 
 
 " By land and sea a virgin queen I reign, 
 And spurn to dust both Antichrist and Spain." 
 
 Which, having been received with due applause, a 
 well -bedizened lad, having in his cap as a posy 
 *' Loyalty," stepped forward, and delivered himself of 
 the following verses : — 
 
 " Oh, great Eliza ! oh, world-famous crew ! 
 Which shall I hail more blest, your queen or you ? 
 While without other either falls to wrack, 
 And light must eyes, or eyes their light must lack. 
 She without you, a diamond sunk in mine, 
 It's worth unprized, to self alone must shine; 
 You without her, like hands bereft of head, 
 Like Ajax rage, by blindfold lust misled. 
 She light, you eyes; she head, and you the hands, 
 In fair proportion knit by heavenly bands ; 
 Servants in queen, and queen in servants blest ; 
 Your only glory, how to serve her best ; 
 And hers how best the adventurous might to guide, 
 Which knows no check of foemen, wind, or tide, 
 So fair Eliza's spotless fame may fly 
 Triumphant round the globe, and shake th' astounded sky ! " 
 
 With which sufficiently bad verses Loyalty passed on, 
 while my Lady Bath hinted to Sir Eichard, not without 
 reason, that the poet, in trying to exalt both parties, 
 had very sufficiently snubbed both, and intimated, that 
 it was " hardly safe for country wits to attempt that 
 euphuistic, antithetical, and delicately conceited vein, 
 whose proper fountain was in W^hitehall." However, on 
 
62 now AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 •went Loyalty, very well pleased with himself, and 
 next, amid much cheering, two great tinsel fish, a 
 salmon and a trout, symbolical of the wealth of Tor- 
 ridge, waddled along, by means of two human legs and 
 a stafi" apiece, which protruded from the fishes' sto- 
 machs. They drew (or seemed to draw, for half the 
 'prentices in the town were shoving it behind, and cheer- 
 ing on the panting monarchs of the flood), a car wherein 
 sate, amid reeds and river-flags, three or four pretty 
 girls in robes of grey-blue spangled with gold, their 
 heads wreathed, one with a crown of the sweet bog- 
 myrtle, another with hops and white convolvulus, the 
 third with pale heather and golden fern. They stopped 
 opposite Amyas ; and she of the myrtle-wreath, rising 
 and bowing to him and the company, began with a 
 pretty blush to say her say : — 
 
 " Hither from my moorland home, 
 Nymph of Torridge, proud I come; 
 Leaving fen and furzy brake, 
 Haunt of eft and spotted snake, 
 Where to fill mine urns I use, 
 Daily with Atlantic dews ; 
 "V\Tiile beside the reedy flood 
 Wild duck leads her paddling brood. 
 For this morn, as Phoebus gay 
 Chased through heaven the night mist gray. 
 Close beside me, prankt in pride, 
 Sister Tamar rose, and cried, 
 * Sluggard, up ! 'Tis holiday. 
 In the lowlands far away. 
 Hark ! how jocund Plymouth bells. 
 Wandering up through mazy dells. 
 
THE FIRST TIME. ^S 
 
 Call me down, with smiles to hail. 
 My daring Drake's retiu-ning sail.' 
 
 * Thine alone ? ' I answer'd. * Nay; 
 Mine as well the joy to-day. 
 Heroes train'd on Northern wave, 
 To that Argo new I gave ; 
 
 Lent to thee, they roam'd the main ; 
 Give me, nymph, my sons again.' 
 
 * Go, they wait thee,' Tamar cried, 
 Southward bounding from my side. 
 Glad I rose, and at my call, 
 
 Came my Naiads, one and all. 
 Nursling of the mountain sky, 
 Leaving Dian's choir on high, 
 Down her cataracts laughing loud, 
 Ockment leapt from crag and cloud, 
 Leading many a nymph, who dwells 
 Where wild deer drink in ferny dells ; 
 While the Oreads as they past 
 Peep'd from Druid Tors aghast. 
 By alder copses sliding slow, 
 Knee-deep in flowers came gentler Yeo, 
 And paused awhile her locks to twine 
 With musky hops and white woodbine, 
 Then joined the silver-footed band, 
 Which circled down my golden sand, 
 By dappled park, and arbour shady. 
 Haunt of love-lorn knight and lady, 
 My thrice-renowned sons to greet. 
 With rustic song and pageant meet. 
 For joy! the girdled globe around 
 Eliza's name henceforth shall sound, 
 Whose venturous fleets to conquest start, 
 Where ended once the seaman's chart, 
 While circling Sol his steps shall count 
 Henceforth from Thule's western mount, 
 And lead new rulers round the seas 
 From furthest Cassiterides. 
 
64 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 For found is now the golden tree. 
 Solved th' Atlantic mystery, 
 Pluck'd the dragon-guarded fruit, 
 While around the charmed root, 
 Wailing loud, the HesperidsJ 
 Watch their warder's drooping lids. 
 Low he lies with grisly wound, 
 While the sorceress triple-crown'd 
 In her scarlet robe doth shield him, 
 Till her cunning spells have heal'd him. 
 Ye, meanwhile, around the earth 
 Bear the prize of manful worth. 
 Yet a nobler meed than gold 
 Waits for Albion's children bold ; 
 Great Eliza's virgin hand 
 Welcomes you to Fairy-land, 
 While your native Naiads bring 
 Native wreaths as offering. 
 Simple though their show may be, 
 Britain's worship in them see. 
 'Tis not price, nor outward fairness, 
 Gives the victor's palm its rareness; 
 Simplest tokens can impart 
 Koble throb to noble heart : 
 Grsecia, prize thy parsley crown, 
 Boast thy laurel, Caesar's town ; 
 Moorland myrtle still shall be 
 Badge of Devon's Chivalry ! " 
 
 And so endino;, she took the ^vreath of fragi*ant gale 
 from her own head, and stooping from the car, placed 
 it on the head of Amyas Leigh, who made answer — 
 
 " There is no place like home, my fair mistress ; and 
 no scent to my taste like this old home-scent in all the 
 spice-islands that I ever sailed by!" 
 
 " Her son^ was not so had," said Sir Richard to 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 65 
 
 Lady Bath — '' but liow came she to hear Plymouth 
 bells at Tamar-head, full fifty miles away ? That's too 
 much of a poet's licence, is it not?" 
 
 " The riyer nymphs, as daughters of Oceanus, and 
 thus of immortal parentage, are bound to possess or- 
 gans of more than mortal keenness ; but, as you say, 
 the song was not so bad — erudite, as well as prettily 
 conceiyed — and, saying for a certain rustical simpli- 
 city and monosyllabic baldness, smacks rather of the 
 forests of Castaly than those of Torridge." 
 
 So spake my Lady Bath ; whom Sir Richard wisely 
 answered not ; for she was a terribly learned member 
 of the college of critics, and disputed eyen with Sidney's 
 sister the chieftaincy of the Euphuists ; so Sir Eichard 
 answered not, but answer was made for him. 
 
 " Since the whole choir of Muses, Madam, haye mi- 
 grated to the couit of Whitehall, no wonder if some 
 dews of Parnassus should fertilize at times eyen our 
 Deyon moors." 
 
 The speaker was a tall and slim young man, some fiye- 
 and-twenty years old, of so rare and delicate a beauty, 
 that it seemed that some Greek statue, or rather one of 
 those pensiye and pious knights whom the old German 
 artists took delight to paint, had condescended to tread 
 awhile this work-day earth in liying flesh and blood. 
 The forehead was yery lofty and smooth, the eyebrows 
 thin and greatly arched (the enyious gallants whispered 
 that something at least of their curye was due to art, 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
66 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 as was also tlie exceeding smoothness of those deli- 
 cate cheeks) . The face was somewhat long and thin ; 
 the nose aquiline ; and the languid mouth showed, per- 
 haps, too much of the ivorj upper teeth ; but the most 
 striking point of the speaker's appearance was, the 
 extraordinary brilliancy of his complexion, which 
 shamed with its whiteness that of all fair ladies round, 
 save where open on each cheek a bright red spot gave 
 warning, as did the long thin neck and the taper hands, 
 of sad possibilities, perhaps not far off; possibilities which 
 all saw with an inward sigh, except she whose doting 
 glances, as well as her resemblance to the fair youth, 
 proclaimed her at once his mother, Mrs. Leigh herself. 
 
 Master Frank, for he it was, was dressed in the very 
 extravagance of the fashion, — not so much from vanity, 
 as from that delicate instinct of self-respect which would 
 keep some men spruce and spotless from one year's end 
 to another upon a desert island ; " for," as Frank used 
 to say in his sententious way, "Mr. Frank Leigh at 
 least beholds me, though none else be by; and why 
 should I be more discourteous to him than I permit 
 others to be ? Be sure that he who is a Grobian in his 
 own company, will, sooner or later, become a Grobian 
 in that of his friends." 
 
 So Mr. Frank was arrayed spotlessly ; but after the 
 latest fashion of Milan, not in trunk hose and slashed 
 sleeves, nor in " French standing collar, treble quadruple 
 daedalian ruff, or stiff-necked rabato, that had more 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 67 
 
 arches for pride, propped up with wire and timber, than 
 five London bridges ; " but in a close-fitting and per- 
 fectly plain suit of dov^c-colour, which set off cunningly 
 the delicate proportions of his figure, and the delicate 
 hue of his complexion, which was shaded from the sun 
 "by a broad dove-coloured Spanish hat, with feather to 
 match, looped up over the right ear with a pearl brooch, 
 and therein a crowned E, supposed by the damsels of 
 Bideford to stand for Elizabeth, which was whispered 
 to be the gift of some most illustrious hand. This 
 same looping up was not without good reason and 
 purpose prepense, thereby all the world had full view 
 of a beautiful little ear, which looked as if it had 
 been cut out of cameo, and made, as my Lady Rich 
 once told him, '' to hearken only to the music of the 
 spheres, or to the chants of cherubim." Behind the 
 said ear was stuck a fresh rose ; and the golden hair 
 was all drawn smoothly back and round to the left 
 temple, whence, tied with a pink ribbon in a great 
 true-lover's knot, a mighty love-lock, " curled as it had 
 been laid in press," rolled down low upon his bosom. 
 Oil, Frank ! Frank ! ha^'e you come out on purpose to 
 break the hearts of all Bideford burghers' daughters? 
 And if so, did you expect to further that triumph by 
 dyeing that pretty little pointed beard (with shame 
 I report it) of a bright vermilion? But we know you 
 better, Frank, and so does your mother; and you are 
 but a masquerading angel after all, in spite of your 
 
 p2 
 
68 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 knots and your perfumes, and the gold chain round 
 your neck which a German princess gave you ; and the 
 emerald ring on your right fore-finger which Hatton 
 gave you ; and the pair of perfumed gloves in your left 
 which Sidney's sister gave you ; and the silver-hilted 
 Toledo which an Italian marquis gave you, on a certain 
 occasion of which you never choose to talk, like a prudent 
 and modest gentleman as you are: but of which the 
 gossips talk, of course, all the more, and whisper that 
 you saved his life from bravoes — a dozen, at the least ; 
 and had that sword for your reward, and might have 
 had his beautiful sister's hand beside, and I know not 
 what else : but that you had so many lady-loves already 
 that you were loth to burden yourself with a fresh one. 
 That, at least, we know to be a lie, fair Frank; for 
 your heart is as pure this day as when you knelt in your 
 little crib at Burrough, and said — 
 
 " Four comers to my bed ; 
 Four angels round my head ; 
 Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John, 
 Bless the bed that I lie on." 
 
 And who could doubt it, (if being pm'e themselves, 
 they have instinctive sympathy with what is pm-e,) 
 who ever looked into those great deep blue eyes of 
 yours, "the black fringed curtains of whose azure lids," 
 usually down-dropt as if in deepest thought, you raise 
 slowly, almost wonderingly, each time you speak, as 
 if awakenin*^: from some fair dream whose home is 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 69 
 
 rather in your Platonical " eternal world of supra-sensi- 
 ble forms," than on that work-day earth wherein you 
 nevertheless acquit yourself so well? There — I must 
 stop describing you, or I shall catch the infection of 
 your own Euphuism, and talk of you as you would have 
 talked of Sidney, or of Spenser, or of that Swan of Avon, 
 
 whose song had just begun when yours but I will 
 
 not anticipate ; my Lady Bath is waiting to give you 
 her rejoinder. 
 
 " Ah, my silver-tongued scholar! and are you, then, 
 the poet ? or have you been drawing on the inexhaus- 
 tible bank of your friend Ealcigh, or my cousin Sidney? 
 or has our new Cygnet Immerito lent you a few unpub- 
 lished leaves from some fresh Shepherd's Calendar?" 
 
 " Had either, Madam, of that cynosural triad been 
 within call of my most humble importunities, your ears 
 had been delectate with far nobler melody." 
 
 " But not our eyes with fairer faces, eh? "Well, you 
 have chosen your nymphs, and had good store from 
 whence to pick, I doubt not. Few young Dulcinas 
 round but must have been glad to take service under so 
 renowned a captain?" 
 
 " The only difficulty, gracious Countess, has been to 
 know where to fix the wandering choice of my bewildered 
 eyes, where all alike are fair, and all alike facund." 
 
 " AVe understand," said she, smiling; — 
 
 " Dan Cupid, choosing midst his mother's graces, 
 Himself more fair, made scorn of fairest faces." 
 
70 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 The young scholar capped her distich forthwith, and 
 bowing to her with a meaning look, 
 
 " 'Then, Goddess, turn,' he cried, 'and veil thy light; 
 Blinded by thine, what eyes can choose aright ? ' " 
 
 " Go, saucy Sir," said my lady, in high glee ; " the 
 pageant stays your supreme pleasure." 
 
 And away went Mr. Frank as master of the revels, 
 to bring up the 'prentices' pageant ; while, for his sake, 
 the nymph of Torridge was forgotten for awhile by all 
 young dames, and most young gentlemen ; and his 
 mother heaved a deep sigh, which Lady Bath over- 
 hearing — 
 
 *' What? in the dumps, good Madam, while all are 
 rejoicing in your joy? Are you afraid that we court- 
 dames shall turn your young Adonis' brain for him? " 
 
 " I do, indeed, fear lest your condescension should 
 make him forget that he is only a poor squire's orphan." 
 
 " I will warrant him never to forget aught that he 
 should recollect," said my Lady Bath. 
 
 And she spoke truly. But soon Frank's silver voice 
 was heard calling out, 
 
 " Room there, good people, for the gallant "prentice 
 lads ! " 
 
 And on they came, headed by a giant of buckram 
 and pasteboard armour, forth of whose stomach looked, 
 like a clock face in a steeple, a human visage, to be 
 greeted, as was the fashion then, by a volley of quips 
 and puns from high and low. 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 71 
 
 Young Mr. William Cary, of Clovelly, who was the 
 wit of those parts, opened the fire by asking him whether 
 he were Goliath, Gogmagog, or Grantorto in the ro- 
 mance ; for giants' names always began with a G. To 
 which the giant's stomach answered pretty surlily, — 
 
 " Mine don't ; I begin with an 0." 
 
 " Then thou criest out before thou art hurt, cowardly 
 giant ! " 
 
 " Let me out, lads, " quoth the irascible visage, 
 struggling in his buckram prison, " and I soon show 
 him whether I be a coward." 
 
 " Nay, if thou gettest out of thyself, thou wouldst be 
 beside thyself, and so wert but a mad giant." 
 
 " And that were pity," said Lady Bath ; "for by 
 the romances, giants have never over-much wit to 
 spare." 
 
 " Mercy, dear Lady !" said Frank, '• and let the giant 
 begin with an 0." 
 
 " A " 
 
 " A false start, giant ! you were to begin with an 0." 
 
 " I'll make you end with an 0, Mr. William Gary ! " 
 roared the testy tower of buckram. 
 
 " And so I do, for I end with ' Fico ! " 
 
 " Be mollified, sweet giant," said Frank, " and spare 
 the rash youth of yon foolish knight. Shall elephants 
 catch flies, or Hurlo-Thnimbo stain his club with brains 
 of Dagonet the jester ? Be mollified ; leave thy caverned 
 grumblings, like Etna when its windy TSTath is past, 
 
72 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 and discourse eloquence from thy central omphalos, like 
 Pythoness ventriloquising. 
 
 " If you do begin laughing at me too, Mr. Leigh " 
 
 said the giant's clock-face, in a piteous tone. 
 
 " I laugh not. Art thou not Ordulf the earl, and 1 
 thy humblest squire ? Speak up, my Lord ; your 
 cousin, my Lady Bath, commands you." 
 
 And at last the giant began : — 
 
 " A giant I, Earl Ordulf men me call, — 
 'Gainst Pavnim foes Devonia's champion tall ; 
 In single fight six thousand Turks I slew ; 
 Pull'd off a lion's head, and ate it too : 
 With one shrewd blow, to let Saint Edward in, 
 I smote the gates of Exeter in twain ; 
 Till aged grown, by angels warn'd in dream, 
 I built an abbey fair by Tavy stream. 
 But treacherous time hath ti'ipp'd my glories up. 
 The staunch old hound must yield to stauncher pup; 
 Here's one so tall as I, and twice so bold, 
 Where I took only cuflfs, takes good red gold. 
 From pole to pole resound his wondrous works, 
 Who slew more Spaniards than I ere slew Turks ; 
 I strode across the Tavy stream : but he 
 Strode round the world and back; and here 'a be ! " 
 
 " Oh, bathos !" said Lady Bath, while the 'prentices 
 shouted applause. " Is this hedgebantling to be 
 fathered on you, Mr. Frank?" 
 
 " It is necessary, by all laws of the drama, 
 Madam," said Frank, with a sly smile, "that the 
 speech and the speaker shall fit each other. Pass 
 on, Earl Ordulf; a more learned worthy waits." 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 73 
 
 Whereon, up came a fresh member of the proces- 
 sion ; namely, no less a person than Vindex BrimLle- 
 combe, the ancient schoolmaster, with five-and-forty 
 boys at his heels, who halting, pulled out his spec- 
 tacles, and thus signified his forgiveness of his whilome 
 broken head : — 
 
 " That the world should have been circumnavigated, 
 ladies and gentles, were matter enough of jubilation to 
 
 the student of Herodotus and Plato, Plinius and • 
 
 ahem : much more when the circumnavigators are 
 Britons; more, again, when Damnonians." 
 
 " Don't swear. Master," said young Will Gary. 
 
 " Gulielme Gary, Gulielme Gary, hast thou forgotten 
 thy " 
 
 " Whippings ? Xever, old lad ! Go on ; but let not 
 the licence of the scholar overtop the modesty of the 
 Christian." 
 
 " More again, as I said, when, incolce, inhabitants of 
 Devon ; but, most of all, men of Bideford school. Oh 
 renowned school ! Oh school-boys ennobled by fellow- 
 ship with him ! Oh most happy pedagogue, to whom 
 it has befallen to have chastised a circumnavigator, and, 
 like another Ghiron, trained another Hercules : yet more 
 than Hercules, for he placed his pillars on the ocean shore, 
 and then returned ; but my scholar's voyage " 
 
 " Hark how the old fox is praising himself all along 
 on the sly," said Gary. 
 
 *' Mr. William, Mr. William, peace; — silentium, my 
 graceless pupil. Urge the foaming steed, and strike 
 
74 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 terror into the rapid stag, but meddle not with matters 
 too high for thee." 
 
 " He has given you the dor now, Sir," said Lady 
 Bath ; "let the old man say his say." 
 
 " I bring, therefore, as my small contribution to this 
 day's feast ; first a Latin epigTam, as thus " 
 
 " Latin ? Let us hear it forthwith," cried my Lady. 
 
 And the old pedant mouthed out, — 
 
 " Torriguiam Tamaris ne spernat ; Leigliius addet 
 Mox terras terris, inclyte Drake, tuis." 
 
 " Neat, i' faith, la !" Whereon all the rest, as in duty 
 bound, approved also. 
 
 " This for the erudite : for vulgar ears the vernacular 
 is more consonant, sympathetic, instructive ; as thus : — ■ 
 
 " Famed Argo ship, that noble chip, by doughty Jason's steering, 
 Brought back to Greece the golden fleece, from Colchis home 
 
 careering ; 
 But now her fame is put to shame, while new Devonian Argo, 
 Roimd earth doth run. in wake of sun, and brings a wealthier cargo." 
 
 " Runs with a right fa-lal-la," observed Gary ; " and 
 would go nobly to a fiddle and a big drum." 
 
 ** Ye Spaniards, quake ! our doughty Drake a royal swan is tested, 
 On wing and oar, from shore to shore, the raging main who breasted: — 
 But never needs to chant his deeds, like swan that lies a-dying, 
 So far his name by trump of fame, around the sphere is flying." 
 
 " Hillo ho ! schoolmaster ! " shouted a voice from 
 behind ; " Move on, and make way for father Neptune !" 
 Whereon a whole storm of raillery fell upon the hapless 
 pedagogue. 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 75 
 
 " We waited for the parson's alligator, but we wain't 
 for your'n." 
 
 "Allegory! my children, allegory!" shrieked the 
 man of letters. 
 
 " What do ye call he an alligator for ? He is but 
 a poor little starved evat ! " 
 
 " Out of the road, old Custis ! March on, Don 
 Palmado!" 
 
 These allusions to the usual instrument of torture in 
 west country schools, made the old gentleman wince ; 
 especially when they were followed home by — 
 
 " Who stole Admiral Grenvile's brooms, because 
 birch rods were dear?" 
 
 But proudly he shook his bald head, as a bull 
 shakes off the flies, and returned to the charge once 
 more. 
 
 " Great Alexander, famed commander, wept and made a pother, 
 At conquering only half the world, but Drake hath conquer'd t'other; 
 And Hercules to brink of seas ! " 
 
 "Oh! " 
 
 And clapping both hands to the back of his neck, the 
 schoolmaster began dancing frantically about, while his 
 boys behind broke out tittering, " ! the ochidore ! 
 look to the blue ochidore! Who've put ochidore to 
 maister's pole?" 
 
 It was too true : neatly inserted, as he stooped 
 forward, between his neck and his collar, was a large 
 live shore-crab, holding on tight with both hands. 
 
76 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 " Gentles ! good Christians ! save me ! I am mare- 
 rode ! Incubo, vel ah incuho, ojyjfrimor ! Satanas has 
 me by the poll ! Help ! he tears my jugular ; he wrings 
 my neck, as he does to Dr. Faustus in the play. Con- 
 fiteor ! — I confess ! Satan, I defy thee ! Good people, 
 I confess ! Bao-ai^tfoyLtat ! The truth will out. Mr. 
 Francis Leigh wrote the epigram!" And diving 
 through the crowd, the pedagogue vanished howling, 
 while father Neptune, crowned with sea-weeds, a trident 
 in one hand, and a live dog-fish in the other, swaggered 
 up the street, surrounded by a tall body-guard of mari- 
 ners, and followed by a great banner, on which was 
 depicted a globe, with Drake's ship sailing thereon 
 upside do"svn, and overwritten — 
 
 " See every man tlie Pelican, 
 
 Which round the world did go, 
 While her stern-post was uppermost, 
 
 And topmasts down below. 
 And by the way she lost a day, 
 
 Out of her log was stole : 
 But Neptune kind, with favouring wind, 
 
 Hath brought her safe and whole." 
 
 " Now lads ! " cried Neptune ; " hand me my parable 
 that's writ for me, and here goeth ! " And at the top 
 of his bull-voice, he began roaring, — 
 
 " I am King Neptune bold, 
 
 The ruler of the seas ; 
 I don't understand much singing upon land, 
 
 But I hope what I say will please. 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 77 
 
 " Here be five Bideford men, 
 
 Which have sail'd the world around, 
 And I watch'd them well, as they all can tell, 
 And brought them home safe and sound. 
 
 " For it is the men of Devon, 
 To see them I take delight, 
 Both to tack and to hull, and to heave and to pull. 
 And to prove themselves in fight," 
 
 " WTiere be those Spaniards proud, 
 
 That make their valiant boasts; 
 And think for to keep the poor Indians for their sheep, 
 
 And to farm my golden coasts? 
 
 " 'Twas the devil and the Pope gave them 
 
 My kingdom for their own : 
 But my nephew Francis Drake, he caused them to quake. 
 And he pick'd them to the bone. 
 
 " For the sea my realm it is, 
 
 As good Queen Bess's is the land ; 
 So freely come again, all merry Devon men. 
 
 And there's old Neptune's hand." 
 
 "Holla, boys! holla! Blow up Triton, and bring 
 forward the freedom of the seas." 
 
 Triton, roaring through a conch, brought forward 
 a cockle-shell full of salt-water, and delivered it 
 solemnly to Amyas, who, of course, put a noble into it, 
 and returned it after Grenvil had done the same. 
 
 "Holla, Dick Admiral!" cried Neptune, who was 
 pretty far gone in liquor ; " we knew thou liadst a right 
 English heart in thee, for all thou standest there as 
 taunt as a Don who has swallowed his rapier." 
 
78 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 " Grammercy, stop thy bellowing, fellow, and on ; 
 for thou smellest vilely of fish." 
 
 " Everything smells sweet in its right place. I'm 
 going home." 
 
 " I thought thou wert there all along, being already 
 half-seas over," said Gary. 
 
 " Ay, right Upsee-Dutch ; and that's more than thou 
 ever wilt be, thou 'long-shore stay-at-home. Why 
 wast making sheep's eyes at Mistress Salterne here, 
 while my pretty little chuck of Burrough there was 
 playing at shove-groat with Spanish doubloons?" 
 
 "Go to the devil, Sirrah!" said Cary. Neptune 
 had touched on a sore subject ; and more cheeks than 
 Amy as Leigh's reddened at the hint. 
 
 " Amen, if heaven so please ! " and on rolled the 
 monarch of the seas ; and so the pageant ended. 
 
 The moment Amyas had an opportunity, he asked 
 his brother Frank, somewhat peevishly, where Rose 
 Salterne was?" 
 
 "What! the mayor's daughter? With her uncle, 
 by Kilkhampton, I believe." 
 
 Now cunning Master Frank, whose daily wish was to 
 " seek peace and ensue it," told Amyas this, because he 
 must needs speak the truth : but he was purposed at 
 the same time to speak as little truth as he could, for 
 fear of accidents ; and, therefore, omitted to tell his 
 brother how that he, two days before, had entreated 
 Rose Salterne herself to appear as the nymph of Tor- 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 79 
 
 riclge ; whicli honour she, Avho had no ohjection either 
 to exhibit her pretty face, to recite pretty poetry, or to 
 be trained thereto by the cynosure of Xorth Devon, 
 would have assented willingly, but that her father 
 stopped the pretty project by a peremptory counter- 
 move, and packed her off, in spite of her tears, to the 
 said uncle on the Atlantic cliffs ; after which he went up 
 to Burrough, and laughed over the whole matter with 
 Mrs. Leigh. 
 
 " I am but a biu'gher, Mrs. Leigh, and you a lady 
 of blood ; but I am too proud to let any man say that 
 Simon Salteme threw his daughter at your son's head ; 
 — no ; not if you were an empress ! " 
 
 " And, to speak truth, Mr. Salterne, there are young 
 gallants enough in the country quarrelling about her 
 pretty face every day, without making her a tourney- 
 queen to tilt about." 
 
 Which was very true ; for during the three years of 
 Amyas's absence, Eose Salterne had grown into so 
 beautiful a girl of eighteen, that half North Devon was 
 mad about the " Eose of Torridge," as she was called ; 
 and there was not a young gallant for ten miles 
 round (not to speak of her father's clerks and 'prentices, 
 who moped about after her like so many Malvolios, and 
 treasured up the very parings of her nails) who would 
 not have gone to Jerusalem to win her. So that all 
 along the vales of Torridge and of Taw, and even away 
 to Clovelly (for young Mr. Gary was one of the sick), 
 
80 HOW AMYAS CAME HOME 
 
 not a gay bachelor but was frowning on his fellows, and 
 vyeing with tfem in the fashion of his clothes, the set 
 of his ruffs, the harness of his horse, the carriage of 
 his hawks, the pattern of his sword-hilt ; and those 
 were golden days for all tailors and armourers, from 
 Exmoor to Okehampton town. But of all those foolish 
 young lads not one would speak to the other, either out 
 hunting, or at the archery butts, or in the tilt-yard ; and 
 my Lady Bath (who confessed that there was no use in 
 bringing out her daughters where Hose Salterne was in 
 the way) prophesied in her classical fashion that Kose's 
 wedding bid fair to be a very bridal of Atalanta, and 
 feast of the Lapith^e ; and poor Mr. Will Gary, (who 
 always blurted out the truth,) when Old Salterne once 
 asked him angrily, in Bideford Market, '' What a 
 plague business had he making sheep's eyes at his 
 daughter," broke out before all bystanders, " And what 
 a plague business had you, old boy, to throw such an 
 apple of discord into our merry meetings hereabouts? 
 If you choose to have such a daughter, you must take 
 the consequences, and be hanged to you." To which 
 Mr. Salterne answered, with some truth, " That she was 
 none of his choosing, nor of Mr. Gary's neither." And 
 so the dor being given, the belligerents parted laughing, 
 but the war remained in statu quo] and not a week 
 passed but, by mysterious hands, some nosegay, or lan- 
 guishing sonnet, was conveyed into The Rose's Ghamber, 
 all which she stowed away, with the simplicity of a 
 
THE FIRST TIME. 81 
 
 country girl, finding it mighty pleasant ; and took all 
 compliments quietly enough, probably because, on the 
 authority of her mirror, she considered them no more 
 than her due. 
 
 And now, to add to the general confusion, home was 
 come young Amy as Leigh, more desperately in love 
 with her than ever. For, as is the way vdth sailors, 
 (who after all are the truest lovers, as they are the finest 
 fellows, God bless them, upon earth.) his lonely ship- 
 watches had been spent in imprinting on his imagination, 
 month after month, year after year, every feature and 
 gesture and tone of the fair lass whom he had left 
 behind him ; and that all the more intensely because, 
 beside his mother, he had no one else to think of, 
 and was as pure as the day he was bom, having been 
 trained as many a brave young man was then, to look 
 upon profligacy not as a proof of manhood, but as what 
 the old Germans, and those Gortyneans who crowned 
 the offender with wool, knew it to be, a cowardly and 
 effeminate sin 
 
 VOL. I. a 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 OF TWO GENTLEMEN OF WALES, AND HOW THEY HUNTED WITH THE 
 HOUNDS, AND YET RAN WITH THE DEER. 
 
 " I know that Deformed ; he has been a vile thief this 
 seven year ; he goes up and down like a gentleman : I 
 remember his name." — Much Ado about Nothing. 
 
 Amyas slept that night a tired and jet a troubled sleep ; 
 and his mother and Frank, as they bent over his pillow 
 could see that his brain was busy with many dreams. 
 
 And no wonder ; for over and above all the excite- 
 ment of the day, the recollection of John Oxenham 
 had taken strange possession of his mind; and all that 
 evening, as he sat in the bay- windowed room where he 
 had seen him last, Amyas was recalling to himself every 
 look and gesture of the lost adventurer, and wondering 
 at himself for so doing, till he retired to sleep, only to 
 renew the fancy in his dreams. At last he found him- 
 self, he knew not how, sailing westward ever, up the wake 
 of the setting sun, in chase of a tiny sail, which was 
 John Oxenham's. Upon him was a painful sense that, 
 unless he came up with her in time, something fearful 
 would come to pass : but the ship would not sail. All 
 
TWO GENTLEMEN OF WALES. 83 
 
 around floated the sargasso beds, clogging her bows with 
 tlieir long snaky coils of weed ; and still he tried to 
 sail, and tried to fancy that he was sailing, till the sun 
 went down, and all was utter dark. And then the moon 
 arose, and in a moment John Oxenham's ship was close 
 aboard; her sails were torn and fluttering ; the pitch 
 was streaming from her sides ; her bulwarks were rott- 
 ing to decay. And what was that line of dark objects 
 dangling along the main-yard ? — A line of hanged men ! 
 And, horror of horrors, from the yard-arm close above 
 him John Oxcnham's corpse looked down with grave- 
 light eyes, and beckoned and pointed, as if to show him 
 his way, and strove to speak, and could not, and pointed 
 still, not forward, but back along their course. And 
 when Amyas looked back, behcLl, behind him was the 
 snow range of the Andes glittering in the moon, and he 
 knew that he was in the South Seas once more, and 
 that all America was between him and home. And 
 still the corpse kept pointing back, and back, and look- 
 ing at him with yearning eyes of agony, and lips which 
 longed to tell some awful secret; till he sprang up, and 
 woke with a shout of terror, and found himself lying in 
 the little coved chamber in dear old BuiTOugh, with the 
 grey autumn morning already stealing in. 
 
 Feverish and excited, he tried in vain to sleep again ; 
 and after an hour's tossing, rose and dressed, and started 
 for a bathe on his beloved old pebble ridge. As he 
 passed his mother's door, he could not help looking in. 
 
 g2 
 
84 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 The dim light of morning showed liim the bed ; but its 
 pillow had not been pressed that night. His mother, in 
 her long white night-dress, was kneeling at the other 
 end of the chamber at her prie-dieu, absorbed in de- 
 votion. Gently he slipped in without a word, and 
 knelt down at her side. She tm-ned, smiled, passed 
 her arm around him, and went on silently with her 
 prayers. Why not? They were for him, and he knew it, 
 and prayed also ; and his prayers were for her, and for 
 poor lost John Oxenham, and all his vanished crew. 
 
 At last she rose, and standing above him, parted the 
 yellow locks from off his brow, and looked long and 
 lovingly into his face. There was nothing to be spoken, 
 for there was nothing to be concealed between those two 
 souls as clear as glass. Each knew all which the other 
 meant ; each knew that its own thoughts were known. 
 At last the mutual gaze was over; she stooped and 
 kissed him on the brow, and was in the act to turn 
 away, as a tear dropped on his forehead. Her little 
 bare feet were peeping out from under her dress. He 
 bent down, and kissed them again and again ; and then 
 looking up, as if to excuse himself, — 
 
 " You have such pretty feet, mother !" 
 
 Instantly, with a woman's instinct, she had hidden 
 them. She had been a beauty once, as I said ; and 
 though her hair was grey, and her roses had faded long 
 ago, she was beautiful still, in all eyes which saw deeper 
 than the mere outward red and white. 
 
OF WALES. 85 
 
 " Your dear fotlier used to say so, thirty years a,G:o." 
 
 " And I say so still : you always were beautiful ; you 
 are beautiful now." 
 
 " What is that to you, silly boy? Will you play the 
 lover with an old mother ? Go and take your walk, and 
 think of younger ladies, if you can find any worthy of 
 you." 
 
 And so the son went forth, and the mother returned 
 to her prayers. 
 
 He walked down to the pebble ridge, where the 
 surges of the bay have defeated their own fury, by 
 rolling up in the course of ages a rampart of grey 
 boulder-stones, some two miles long, as cunningly 
 curved, and smoothed, and fitted, as if the work had 
 been done by human hands, which protects from the 
 high tides of spring and autumn a fertile sheet of 
 smooth allu^^al turf. Snifiing the keen salt air like 
 a young sea-dog, he stripped and plunged into the 
 breakers, and dived, and rolled, and tossed about the 
 foam with stalwart arms, till he heard himself hailed 
 from off the shore, and looking up, saw standing on 
 the top of the rampart the tall figure of his cousin 
 Eustace. 
 
 Amyas was half-disappointed at his coming ; for, 
 love-lorn rascal, he had been dreaming all the way 
 thither of Rose Salterne, and had no wish for a com- 
 panion who would prevent his dreaming of her all the 
 way back. Nevertheless, not having seen Eustace for 
 
86 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 three years, It was but civil to scramble out and dress, 
 while liis cousin walked up and down upon the turf 
 inside. 
 
 Eustace Leigh was the son of a younger brother of 
 Leigh of Burrow, who had more or less cut himself off 
 from his family, and indeed from his countrymen, by 
 remaining a Papist. True, though born a Papist, he 
 had not always been one ; for, like many of the gentry, 
 he had become a Protestant under Edward the Sixth, 
 and then a Papist again under Mary. But, to his 
 honour be it said, at that point he had stopped, having 
 too much honesty to turn Protestant a second time, as 
 hundreds did, at Elizabeth's accession. So a Papist he 
 remained, living out of the way of the world in a great, 
 rambling, dark house, still called " Chapel," on the 
 Atlantic cliffs, in Moorwinstow parish, not far from Sir 
 Kichard Grenvile's house of Stow. The penal laws 
 never troubled him ; for, in the first place, they never 
 troubled any one who did not make conspiracy and 
 rebellion an integral doctrine of his religious creed ; and 
 next, they seldom troubled even them, unless, fired with 
 the glory of martyrdom, they bullied the long-suffering 
 of Elizabeth and her council into giving them their 
 deserts, and, like poor Father Southwell in after years, 
 insisted on being hanged, whether Burleigh liked or not. 
 Moreover, in such a no-man's-land and end-of-all-the- 
 earth was that old house at Moorwinstow, that a dozen 
 conspiracies might have been hatched there, without 
 
OF WALES. 87 
 
 any one hearing of it ; and Jesuits and seminary priests 
 skulked in and out all the year round, unquestioned 
 though unblest ; and found a sort of piquant pleasure, 
 like naughty boys who have crept into the store-closet, 
 in living in mysterious little dens in a lonely turret, and 
 going up through a trap-door to celebrate mass in a 
 secret chamber in the roof, where they were allowed by 
 the powers that were to play as much as they chose 
 at persecuted saints, and preach about hiding in dens 
 and caves of the earth. For once, when the zealous 
 parson of Moorwinstow, having discovered (what every- 
 body knew already) the existence of " mass priests and 
 their idolatry" at Chapel house, made formal complaint 
 thereof to Sir Richard, and called on him, as the nearest 
 justice of the peace, to put in force the act of the four- 
 teenth of Elizabeth, that worthy knight only rated him 
 soundly for a fantastical puritan, and bade him mind his 
 own business, if he wished not to make the place too hot 
 for him ; whereon (for the temporal authorities, hap- 
 pily for the peace of England, kept in those days a 
 somewhat tight hand upon the spiritual ones) the worthy 
 parson subsided, — for, after all, Mr. Thomas Leigh paid 
 his tithes regularly enough,— and was content, as he ex- 
 pressed it, to bow his head in the house of Rimmon like 
 Naaman of old, by eating Mr. Leigh's dinners as often as 
 he was invited, and ignoring the vocation of old Father 
 Francis, who sat opposite to him, dressed as a layman, 
 and calling himself the young gentleman's pedagogue. 
 
88 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 But the said birds of ill omen had a very considerable 
 lien on the conscience of poor Mr. Thomas Leigh, the 
 father of Eustace, in the form of certain lands once be- 
 longing to the Abbey of Hartland. He more than 
 half believed that he should be lost for holding those 
 lands ; but he did not believe it wholly, and, therefore, 
 he did not give them up; which was the case, as poor 
 Mary Tudor found to, her sorrow, with most of her 
 ^'Catholic" subjects, whose consciences, while they 
 compelled them to return to the only safe fold of 
 Mother Church {extra quam nulla saliis), by no means 
 compelled them to disgorge the wealth of which they 
 had plundered that only hope of their salvation. Most 
 of them, however, like poor Tom Leigh, felt the abbey 
 rents burn in their purses; and, as John Bull generally 
 does in a difficulty, compromised the matter by a second 
 folly (as if two wrong things made one right one) and 
 petted foreign priests, and listened, or pretended not to 
 listen, to their plottings and their practisings ; and gave 
 up a son here, and a son there, as a sort of sin-offering 
 and scape-goat, to be carried off to Douay, or Rheims, 
 or Rome, and trained as a seminary priest ; in plain 
 English, to be taught the science of villany, on the 
 motive of superstition. One of such hapless scape- 
 goats, and children who had been cast into the fire to 
 Moloch, was Eustace Leigh, whom his father had sent, 
 giving the fruit of his body for the sin of his soul, to 
 be made a liar of at Rheims. 
 
OF WALES. 89 
 
 And a very fair liar he had become. Not that the 
 lad was a bad fellow at heart ; but he had been chosen 
 by the harpies at home, on account of his " peculiar 
 vocation ;" in plain English, because the wily priests 
 had seen in him certain capacities of vague hysterical 
 fear of the unseen (the religious sentiment, we call it 
 now-a-days), and with them that tendency to be a 
 rogue, which superstitious men always have. He was 
 now a tall, handsome, light-complexioned man, with a 
 huge i^right forehead, a veiy small mouth, and a dry 
 and set expression of face, which was always trying to 
 get free, or rather to seem free, and indulge in smiles 
 and dimples, which were proper ; for one ought to have 
 Christian love, and if one had love one ought to be 
 cheerful, and when people were cheerful they smiled; 
 and therefore he would smile, and tried to do so ; but 
 his charity prepense looked no more alku'ing than 
 malice prepense would have done ; and, had he not been 
 really a handsome fellow, many a woman who raved 
 about his sweetness, would have likened his frankness 
 to that of a skeleton dancing in fetters, and his smiles 
 to the grins thereof. 
 
 He had returned to England about a month before, 
 in obedience to the proclamation which had been set forth 
 for that purpose (and certainly not before it was needed), 
 that " whosoever had children, wards, &c., in the parts 
 beyond the seas, should send in their names to the 
 ordinary, and within four months call them home 
 
90 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 again." So Eustace was now staying with liis father 
 at Chapel, having, nevertheless, his private matters to 
 transact on behalf of the virtuous society by whom he 
 had been brought up ; one of which private matters 
 had brought him to Bideford the night before. 
 
 So he sat down beside Amyas on the pebbles, and 
 looked at him all over out of the corners of his eyes 
 very gently, as if he did not wish to hurt him, or even 
 the flies on his back; and Amyas faced right round, 
 and looked him full in the face, with the heartiest of 
 smiles, and held out a lion's paw, which Eustace took 
 rapturously, and a great shaking of hands ensued; 
 Amyas griping with a great round fist, and a quiet 
 quiver thereof, as much as to say, " I am glad to see 
 you;" and Eustace pinching hard with quite straight 
 fingers, and sawing the air violently up and down, 
 as much as to say, " Don't you see how glad I am 
 to see you?" A very different greeting from the 
 former. 
 
 " Hold hard, old lad," said iVmyas, "before you 
 break my elbow. And where do you come from?" 
 
 " From going to and fro in the earth, and from 
 walking up and down in it," said he, with a little 
 smile and nod of mysterious self-importance. 
 
 " Like the devil, eh? Well, every man has his 
 pattern. How is my uncle ? " 
 
 Now, if there was one man on earth above another, 
 of whom Eustace Leigh stood in dread, it was his 
 
OF WALES. 91 
 
 Cousin Amyas. In the first place, he knew Amyas 
 could have killed him with a blow; and there are 
 natures, who, instead of rejoicing in the strength of 
 men of greater prowess than themselves, look at such 
 with irritation, dread, at last, spite; expecting, perhaps, 
 that the stronger will do to them, what they feel they 
 might have done in his place. Every one, perhaps, has 
 that same envious, cowardly devil haunting about his 
 heart ; but the brave men, though they be very spar- 
 rows, kick him out ; the cowards keep him, and foster 
 him; and so did poor Eustace Leigh. 
 
 Next, he could not help feeling that Amyas despised 
 him. They had not met for three years : but before 
 Amyas went, Eustace never could argue with him ; 
 simply because Amyas treated him as beneath argument. 
 No doubt he was often rude and unfair enough ; but 
 the whole mass of questions concerning the unseen 
 world, which the priests had stimulated in his cousin's 
 mind into an unhealthy fungus crop, were to Amyas 
 simply, as he expressed it, "wind and moonshine;" and 
 he treated his cousin as a sort of harmless lunatic, and, 
 as they say in Devon, " half-baked." And Eustace 
 knew it ; and knew too, that his cousin did him an 
 injustice. " He used to undervalue me," said he to 
 himself; "Let us see whether he does not find me 
 a match for him now." And then went ofi" into an 
 agony of secret contrition for his self-seeking, and his 
 forgetting that " the glory of God, and not his own 
 exaltation," was the object of his existence. 
 
92 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 There, dear readers, Ex pede Herculem ; I cannot tire 
 myself or you (especially in this book) with any wire- 
 drawn soul-dissections. I have tried to hint to you two 
 opposite sorts of men. The one trying to be good with 
 all his might and main, according to certain approved 
 methods and rules, which he has got by heart ; and like 
 a weak oarsman, feeling and fingering his spiritual 
 muscles over all day, to see if they are growing. The 
 other, not even knowing whether he is good or not, 
 but just doing the right thing without thinking about it, 
 as simply as a little child, because the Spirit of God is 
 with him. If you cannot see the great gulf fixed between 
 the two, I trust that you will discover it some day. 
 
 But in justice be it said, all this came upon Eustace, 
 not because he was a Eomanist, but because he was 
 educated by the Jesuits. Had he been saved from them, 
 he might have lived and died as simple and honest 
 a gentleman as his brothers, who turned out like true 
 Englishmen (as did all the Eomish laity) to face the 
 great Armada, and one of whom was fighting at that 
 very minute under St. Leger in Ireland, and as brave 
 and loyal a soldier as those Roman Catholics whose 
 noble blood has stained every Crimsean battle-field; 
 but his fate was appointed otherwise ; and the Upas- 
 shadow which has blighted the whole Romish Church, 
 blighted him also. 
 
 " Ah ! my dearest cousin ! " said Eustace, '' How 
 disappointed I was this morning at finding I had arrived 
 just a day too late to witness your triumph ! But I 
 
OF WALES. 93 
 
 hastened to your home as soon as I could, and learning 
 from yoiu' mother that I should find you here, hurried 
 down to bid you welcome again to Devon." 
 
 " Well, old lad, it does look very natural to see you. 
 I often used to think of you walking the deck o' nights. 
 Uncle and the girls are all right, then? But is the old 
 pony dead yet? And how's Dick the smith, and 
 Nancy? Grown a fine maid by now, I warrant. 'Slid, 
 it seems half a life that I've been away." 
 
 " And you really thought of your poor cousin? Be 
 sure that he too, thought of you, and offered up nightly 
 his weak prayers for your safety (doubtless, not without 
 avail) to those saints, to whom would that you — " 
 
 " Halt there, coz. If they are half as good fellows 
 as you and I take them for, they'll help me without 
 asking." 
 
 " They have helped you, Amyas." 
 
 *' Maybe ; I'd have done as much, I'm sure, for them, 
 if I'd been in their place." 
 
 " And do you not feel, then, that you owe a debt of 
 gratitude to them ; and, above all, to her, whose inter- 
 cessions have, I doubt not, availed for your preserva- 
 tion? Her, the star of the sea, the all compassionate 
 guide of the mariner?" 
 
 " Humph ! " said Amyas. " Here's Frank, let him 
 answer." 
 
 And, as he spoke, up came Frank, and, after due 
 greetings, sat down beside them on the ridge. 
 
94 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 '* I say, "brother, here's Eustace trying already to 
 convert me ; and telling me that I owe all my luck to 
 the Blessed Virgin's prayers for me." 
 
 " It maybe so," said Frank ; "at least you owe it to 
 the prayers of that most pure and peerless virgin, by 
 whose commands you sailed ; the sweet incense of whose 
 orisons have gone up for you daily, and for whose sake 
 you were preserved from flood and foe, that you might 
 spread the fame and advance the power of the spotless 
 championess of truth, and right, and freedom, — Eliza- 
 beth, your queen." 
 
 Amyas answered this rhapsody, which would have 
 been then both fashionable and sincere, by a loyal 
 chuckle. Eustace smiled meekly : but answered some- 
 what venomously nevertheless, 
 
 " I, at least, am certain that I speak the truth, when 
 I call my patroness a virgin undefiled." 
 
 Both the brothers' brows clouded at once. Amyas, 
 as he lay on his back on the pebbles, said quietly to 
 the gulls over his head, 
 
 " I wonder what the Frenchman, whose head I cut 
 off at the Azores, thinks by now about all that." 
 
 " Cut off a Frenchman's head?" said Frank. 
 
 " Yes, faith ; and so fleshed my maiden sword. Fll 
 tell you. It was in some tavern ; I and George Drake 
 had gone in, and there sat this Frenchman, with his 
 sword on the table, ready for a quarrel, (I found after- 
 wards he was a noted bully, ) and begins vritli us loudly 
 
OF WALES. 95 
 
 enougli aLout tliis and tliat ; tut, after awhile, "by the 
 instigation of the devil, what does he vent but a dozen 
 slanders against her Majesty's honour, one a top of the 
 other. I was ashamed to hear them, and I should be 
 more ashamed to repeat them." 
 
 " I have heard enough of such," said Frank. " They 
 come mostly through lewd rascals about the French 
 ambassador, who have been bred (God help them) 
 among the filthy vices of that Medicean court, in which 
 the Queen of Scots had her schooling ; and can only 
 perceive in a virtuous freedom, a cloke for licentiousness 
 like their own. Let the curs bark ; Honi soit qui mal 
 y pense is om' motto, and shall be for ever." 
 
 " But I didn't let the cur bark ; for I took him by 
 the ears, to show him out into the street. Whereon he 
 got to his sword, and I to mine ; and a very near 
 chance I had of never bathing on the pebble-ridge 
 more ; for the fellow did not fight with edge and buck- 
 ler, like a Christian, but had some new-fangled French 
 devil's device of scryming and foining with his point, 
 ha'ing and stamping, and tracing at me, that I ex- 
 pected to be full of eyelet-holes ere I could close with 
 him." 
 
 " Thank God that you are safe, then," said Frank. 
 *' I know that play well enough, and dangerous enough 
 it is." 
 
 " Of course you know it ; but I didn't, more's the 
 pity." 
 
96 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 "AVcll, I'll teacli it thee, lad, as well as Rowland 
 Torke himself," 
 
 " Thy fincture, carricade, and sly passata. 
 Thy stramazon, and resolute stoccata. 
 Wiping maudritta, closing embrocata, 
 And all the cant of the honourable fencing mystery." 
 
 " Eowland Yorke? Clio's he, then? " 
 
 " A very roystering rascal, who is making good 
 profit in London just now hj teaching this very art of 
 fence ; and is as likely to have his mortal thread dipt in 
 a tavern brawl, as thy Frenchman. But how did you 
 escape his pinking iron? " 
 
 " How? Had it through my left arm before I could 
 look round ; and at that I got mad, and leapt upon 
 him, and caught him by the vn'ht, and then had a fair 
 side-blow; and, as fortune would have it, off tumbled 
 his head on to the table, and there was an end of his 
 slanders." 
 
 "So perish all her enemies!" said Frank; and 
 Eustace, who had been trying not to listen, rose and 
 said, 
 
 " I trust that you do not number me among them?" 
 
 *' As you speak, I do, coz.," said Frank. " But for 
 your own sake, let me ad\'ise you to put faith in 
 the true report of those who have daily experience of 
 their mistress's excellent virtue, as they have of the 
 sun's shining, and of the earth's bringing forth fruit. 
 
OF WALES. 97 
 
 and not in the tattle of a few cowardly Lack-.stair 
 rogues, who wish to curry favour with the Guises. 
 Come, we will say no more. Walk round with us by 
 Appledore, and then home to breakfast." 
 
 But Eustace declined, having 'immediate business, 
 lie said, in Northam town, and then in Bideford ; and so 
 left them to lounge for another half-hour on the beach, 
 and then walk across the smooth sheet of turf to the 
 little white fishing village, which stands some two miles 
 above the bar, at the meeting of the Torridge and the 
 Taw. 
 
 Now it came to pass, that Eustace Leigh, as we have 
 seen, told his cousins that he was going to Northam : 
 but he did not tell them that his point was really the 
 same as their own, namely, Appledore ; and, there- 
 fore, after having satisfied his conscience by going as 
 far as the very nearest house in Northam village, he 
 struck away sharp to the left across the fields, repeat- 
 ing I know not what to the Blessed Virgin all the 
 vv'ay ; whereby he went several miles out of his road ; 
 and also, as is the wont of crooked spirits, Jesuits 
 especially, (as three centuries sufficiently testify,) only 
 outwitted himself. For his cousins going merrily, like 
 honest men, along the straight road across the turf, 
 arrived in Appledore, opposite the little " Mariner's 
 Rest " Inn, just in time to see what Eustace had taken 
 so much trouble to hide from them, namely, four of 
 Mr. Thomas Leigh's horses standing at the door, held 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
98 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 by his groom, saddles and mail-bags on back, and 
 mounting three of them, Eustace Leigh and two strange 
 gentlemen. 
 
 " There's one lie already this morning," growled 
 Amyas ; " he told us he was going to Northam." 
 
 " And we do not know that he has not been there," 
 blandly suggested Frank. 
 
 «' Why, you are as bad a Jesuit as he, to help him 
 out with such a fetch." 
 
 " He may have changed his mind." 
 
 " Bless your pure imagination, my sweet boy," said 
 Amyas, laying his great hand on Frank's head, and 
 mimicking his mother's manner. " I say, dear Frank, 
 let's step into this shop, and buy a pennyworth of 
 whipcord." 
 
 " What do you want with whipcord, man? " 
 
 " To spin my top, to be sure." 
 
 " Top? how long hast had a top?" 
 
 " I'll buy one, then, and save my conscience ; but 
 the upshot of this sport I must see. Why may not I 
 have an excuse ready made as well as Master Eustace?" 
 
 So saying, he pulled Frank into the little shop, un- 
 observed by the party at the inn door. 
 
 " What strange cattle has he been importing now ? 
 Look at that three-legged fellow, trying to get aloft on 
 the wrong side. How he claws at his horse's ribs, like 
 a cat scratching an elder stem!" 
 
 The three-legged man was a tall, meek-looking 
 
OF WALES. 99 
 
 person, who had bedizened himself with gorgeous gar- 
 ments, a great feather, and a sword so long and broad, 
 that it differed little in size from the very thin and stiff 
 shanks, between which it wandered uncomfortably. 
 
 " Young David in Saul's weapons," said Frank. 
 " He had better not go in them, for he certainly has 
 not proved them." 
 
 '' Look, if his third leg is not turned into a tail ! 
 Why does not some one in charity haul in half-a-yard 
 of his belt for him ? " 
 
 It was too true ; the sword, after being kicked out 
 three or four times from its uncomfortable post between 
 his legs, had returned unconquered ; and tlie hilt getting 
 a little too far back by reason of the too great length 
 of the belt, the weapon took up its post triumphantly 
 behind, standing out point in air, a tail confest, amid 
 the tittering of the ostlers, and the cheers of the sailors. 
 
 At last the poor man, by dint of a chair, was mounted 
 safely, while his fellow stranger, a burly, coarse-looking 
 man, equally gay, and rather more handy, made so 
 fierce a rush at his saddle, that like " vaulting ambition 
 who o'erleaps his selle," he " fell on t'other side : " or 
 would have fallen, had he not been brought up short by 
 the shoulders of the ostler at his off-stirrup. In which 
 shock off came hat and feather. 
 
 '• Pardie, the bulldog-faced one is a fighting man. 
 Dost see, Frank? he has had his head broken." 
 
 '• That scar came not, my son, but by a pair of most 
 h2 
 
100 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 Catholic and apostolic scissors. My gentle buzzard, 
 that is a priest's tonsure." 
 
 " Hang the dog! O, that the sailors may but see 
 it, and put him over the quay head. I've a half mind 
 to go and do it myself." 
 
 " My dear Amyas," said Frank, laying two fingers 
 on his arm, " these men, Avhosoever they are, are the 
 guests of our uncle, and therefore the guests of our 
 family. Ham gained little by publishing Noah's shame ; 
 neither shall we, by publishing our uncle's." 
 
 " Murrain on you, old Franky, you never let a man 
 speak his mind, and shame the devil." 
 
 " I have lived long enough in courts, old Amyas, 
 without a murrain on you, to have found out first, that 
 it is not so easy to shame the devil ; and secondly, that 
 it is better to outwit him ; and the only way to do 
 that, sweet chuck, is very often not to speak your mind 
 at all. We will go down and visit them at Chapel in 
 ;i day or two, and see if we cannot serve these reynards 
 as the badger did the fox, when he found him in his 
 hole, and could not get him out by evil savours." 
 
 '' How then?" 
 
 " Stuck a sweet nosegay in the door, which turned 
 Reynard's stomach at once ; and so overcame evil with 
 good." 
 
 " Well, thou art too good for this world, that's cer- 
 tain; so we will go home to breakfast. Those rogues 
 are out of sight by now." 
 
OF WALES. 101 
 
 Nevertheless, Amyas was not proof against the 
 temptation of going over to the inn door, and asking 
 who were the gentlemen who went with Mr. Leigh. 
 
 " Gentlemen of Wales," said the ostler, " who came 
 last night in a pinnace from Milford-haven, and their 
 names, Mr. Morgan Evans and Mr. Evan Morgans." 
 
 " Mr. Judas Iscariot, and Mr. Iscariot Judas," said 
 Amyas between his teeth, and then observed aloud, "that 
 the Welsh gentlemen seemed rather poor horsemen." 
 
 " So I said to ^Ir. Leigh's groom, your worship. 
 But he says that those parts be so uncommon rough 
 and mountainous, that the poor gentlemen, you see, 
 being enforced to hunt on foot, have no such oppor- 
 tunities as young gentlemen hereabout, like your Avor- 
 sliip ; whom God preserve, and send a virtuous lady, 
 and one worthy of you." 
 
 " Thou hast a villanously glib tongue, fellow ! " said 
 Amyas, who was thorouglily out of humour ; " and a 
 sneaking down visage too, when I come to look at you. 
 I doubt but you are a Papist too, I do !" 
 
 " Well, Sir ! and what if I am ? I trust I don't break' 
 the Queen's laws by that. If I don't attend Nortliam 
 church, I pay my month's shilling for tlie use of the 
 poor, as the Act directs ; and beyond that, neither you 
 nor any man dare demand of me." 
 
 " Dare ! Act directs ! You rascally lawyer, you ! and 
 whence does an ostler like you get your shilling to pay 
 withal? iVnswer me." The examinate found it so 
 
102 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 difficult to answer the question, that he suddenly became 
 afflicted with deafness. 
 
 " Do you hear ?" roared Amyas, catching at him 
 with his lion's paw. 
 
 " Yes, Missus ; anon, anon, Missus !" quoth he to an 
 imaginary landlady inside, and twisting under Amyas's 
 hand like an eel, vanished into the house, while Frank 
 got the hot-headed youth away. 
 
 " What a plague is one to do, then ? That fellow 
 was a Papist spy!" 
 
 " Of course he was !" said Frank. 
 
 " Then, Avhat is one to do, if the whole county is full 
 of them?" 
 
 " Not to make fools of ourselves about them ; and so 
 leave them to make fools of themselves." 
 
 " That's all very fine : but — well, I shall remember 
 the villain's face if I see him a2:ain." 
 
 " There is no harm in that," said Frank. 
 
 " Glad you think so." 
 
 " Don't quarrel with me, Amyas, the first day." 
 
 " Quarrel with thee, my darling old fellow ! I had 
 sooner kiss the dust off thy feet, if I were worthy of it. 
 So now away home ; my inside cries cupboard." 
 
 In the meanwhile ^lessrs. Evans and Morgans were 
 riding away, as fast as the rough by-lanes would let 
 them, along the fresh coast of the bay, steering carefully 
 clear of Northam town on the one hand, and on the 
 other, of Portledge, where dwelt that most Protestant 
 
OF WALES, 103 
 
 justice of the peace, Mr. Coffin. And it was well for 
 tliem that neither Amyas Leigh, or indeed any other 
 loyal Englishman, was by when they entered, as they 
 shortly did, the lonely woods which stretch along the 
 southern wall of the bay. For there Eustace Leigh 
 pulled up short; and both he and his groom, leaping 
 from their horses, knelt doT^Ti humbly in the wet grass, 
 and implored the blessing of the two valiant gentlemen 
 of Wales, who, having graciously bestowed it with 
 three fingers apiece, became thenceforth no longer 
 Morgan Evans and Evan Morgans, Welshmen and 
 gentlemen ; but Father Parsons and Father Campian, 
 Jesuits, and gentlemen in no sense in which that word 
 is applied in this book. 
 
 After a few minutes, the party were again in mo- 
 tion, ambling steadily and cautiously along the high 
 table-land, toward ]\Ioorwinstow in the west; while 
 beneath them on the right, at the mouth of rich-wooded 
 glens, opened vistas of the bright blue bay, and beyond 
 it the sand hills of Braunton, and the ragged rocks of 
 Morte ; while far away to the north and west the 
 lonely isle of Luudy hung like a soft grey cloud. 
 
 But they were not destined to reach their point as 
 peaceably as they could have wished. For just as they 
 got opposite Clovelly Dike, the huge old Boman en- 
 campment which stands about mid-way in their journey, 
 they heard a halloo from the valley below, answered by 
 a fainter one far ahead. At which, like a couple of 
 
104 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 rogues, (as indeed tliey were,) Fatlier Campian and 
 Father Parsons looked at each other, and then both 
 stared round at the wild, desolate, open pasture, (for the 
 country was then all unenclosed,) and the great dark 
 farze-grown banks above their heads ; and Campian 
 remarked gently to Parsons, that this was a very dreary 
 spot, and likely enough for robbers. 
 
 " A likelier spot for us. Father," said Eustace, pun- 
 ning. " The old Romans knew what they were about 
 when they put their legions up aloft here to overlook 
 land and sea for miles away ; and we may thank them 
 some day for their lea\dngs. The banks are all soimd ; 
 there is plenty of good water inside ; and," (added he in 
 Latin,) " in case our Spanish friends — you understand '? '' 
 
 " Pauca verba, my son !" said Campian : but as he 
 spoke, up from the ditch close beside him, as if rising 
 out of the earth, burst through the furze-bushes an 
 armed cavalier. 
 
 '• Pardon, gentlemen !" shouted he, as the Jesuit and 
 his horse recoiled against the groom. " Stand, for your 
 lives !" 
 
 " Mater ccelorum f^ moaned Campian : while Parsons, 
 who, as all the world knows, was a blustering bully 
 enough, (at least with his tongue,) asked : " What a 
 murrain riglit had he to stop honest folks on the Queen's 
 highway?" confirming the same with a mighty oath, 
 which he set down as peccatum veniale, on account of 
 the sudden necessity ; nay, indeed /raws pia, as proper 
 
OF WALES. 105 
 
 to support the character of that valiant gentleman of 
 Wales, Mr. Evan Morgans. But the horseman, taking 
 no notice of his hint, dashed across the nose of Eustace 
 Leigh's horse, with a " Hillo, old lad ! where ridest 
 so early V" and peering down for a moment into the 
 ruts of the narrow track-way, struck spurs into his 
 horse, shouting, ''A fresh slot! right away for Hart- 
 land! Forward, gentlemen all ! follow, follow, follow !" 
 
 " Who is this roysterer ?" asked Parsons, loftily. 
 
 " Will Gary, of Clovelly ; an awful heretic : and 
 here come more behind." 
 
 And as he spoke, four or five more mounted gallants 
 plunged in and out of the great dikes, and thundered on 
 behind the party ; whose horses, quite understanding 
 what game was up, burst into full gallop, neighing and 
 squealing ; and in another minute the hapless Jesuits 
 were hurling along over moor and moss after a " hart 
 of grease." 
 
 Parsons, who, though a vulgar bully, was no coward, 
 supported the character of Mr. Evan Morgans well 
 enough ; and he would have really enjoyed himself, had 
 he not been in agonies of fear lest those precious saddle- 
 bags in front of him should break from their lashings, 
 and rolling to the earth, expose to the hoofs of heretic 
 horses, perhaps to the gaze of heretic eyes, such a cargo 
 of bulls, dispensations, secret coriTspondences, seditious 
 tracts, and so forth, that at the very thought of their 
 being seen, his head felt loose upon his shoulders. But 
 
106 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 the future martyr behind him, Mr. Morgan Evans, gave 
 himself up at once to abject despair, and as he bumped 
 and rolled along, sought vainly for comfort in pro- 
 fessional ejaculations in the Latin tongue. 
 
 " Mater intemerata I Eripe me e — Ugh ! I am down ! 
 Adhcesit jjavimento venter ! — No ! I am not ! Et dilec- 
 tum tuum e potestate cam's — Ah ! Audisti me inter 
 cornua unicornmm ! — Put this, too, down in — ugh ! — thy 
 account in favour of my poor — oh, sharpness of this 
 saddle ! Oh whither, barbarous islanders !" 
 
 Now riding on his quarter, not in the rough track- 
 way like a cockney, but through the soft heather like 
 a sportsman, was a very gallant knight whom we all 
 know well by this time, Richard Grenvile by name ; 
 who had made Mr. Gary and the rest his guests the 
 night before, and then ridden out with them at five 
 o'clock that morning, after the wholesome early ways 
 of the time, to rouse a Avell-known stag in tlie glens at 
 Buckish, by help of Mr. Coffin's hounds from Portledge. 
 Who being as good a Latiner as Campian's self, and 
 over-hearing both the scraps of psalm and the "barbarous 
 islanders," pushed his horse alongside of. Mr. Eustace 
 Leigh, and at the first check said, with two low boAVS 
 toward the two strangers — 
 
 " I hope Mr. Leigh will do me the honour of intro- 
 ducing me to his guests. I should be sorry, and ]\Ir. 
 Gary also, that any gentle strangers should become 
 neighbours of oui's, even for a day, without our knowing 
 
OF WALES. 107 
 
 who tliey are who lionour our western Thiile with a 
 visit ; and showing them ourselves all due requital for 
 the compliment of theii* presence." 
 
 After which, the only thing which poor Eustace could 
 do, (especially as it was spoken loud enough for all 
 by-standers,) was to introduce in due form Mr. Evan 
 Morgans and Mr. Morgan Evans, who, hearing the 
 name, and what was worse, seeing the terrible face 
 with its quiet searching eye, felt like a brace of part- 
 ridge-poults cowering in the stubble, with a hawk 
 hanging ten feet over their heads. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Sir Richard blandly, cap in hand ; 
 " I fear that your mails must have been somewhat in 
 your way in this unexpected gallop. If you will permit 
 my groom, who is behind, to disencumber you of them 
 and carry them to Chapel, you mil both confer an 
 honour on me, and be enabled yourselves to see the 
 mort more pleasantly." 
 
 A twinkle of fun, in spite of all his eiforts, played 
 about good Sir Richard's eye as he gave this searching 
 hint. The two Welch gentlemen stammered out clumsy 
 thanks ; and pleading great haste and fatigue from a 
 long journey, contrived to fall to the rear, and vanish 
 with their guides, as soon as the slot had been recovered. 
 
 "Will!" said Sir Richard, pushing alongside of 
 young Cary. 
 
 " Your worship?" 
 
 "Jesuits, Will!" 
 
108 OF TWO GENTLEMEN 
 
 " May the father of lies fly away with them over the 
 nearest cliff!" 
 
 " He will not do that while this Irish trouble is 
 about. Those fellows are come to practise here for 
 Saunders and Desmond." 
 
 " Perhaps they have a consecrated banner in their 
 bag, the scoundrels ! Shall I and young Coffin on and 
 stop them ? Hard if the honest men may not rob the 
 thieves once in a way." 
 
 " No ; give the devil rope, and he will hang himself. 
 Keep thy tongue at home, and thine eyes too. Will." 
 
 '' How then ?" 
 
 " Let Clovelly beach be watched night and day like 
 any mouse-hole. Xo one can land round Harty point 
 with these south-westers. Stop every fellow who has the 
 ghost of an Irisli brogue, come he in or go he out, and 
 send him over to me." 
 
 " Some one should guard Bude haven, Sir." 
 
 " Leave that to me. Now then, forward, gentlemen 
 all, or the stag will take the sea at the Abbey." 
 
 And on they crashed down the Hartland glens, 
 through the oak-scrub and the great crown-ferns ; and 
 the baying of the slow-hound and the tantaras of the 
 liorn died away further and fainter toward the blue 
 Atlantic, while the conspirators, with lightened hearts, 
 pricked fast across Bursdon upon their evil eiTand. But 
 Eustace Leigh had other tliouglits and other cares than 
 the safety of his father's two mysterious guests, important 
 
OF WALES. 109 
 
 as that was in his eyes ; for he was one of the many 
 who had drunk in sweet poison (though in his case it 
 could hardly be called sweet) from the magic glances of 
 the Rose of Torridge. He had seen her in the town, 
 and for the first time in his life fallen utterly in love ; and 
 now that she had come down close to his father's house, 
 he looked on her as a lamb fallen unawares into the jaws 
 of the greedy wolf, which he felt himself to be. For 
 Eustace's love had little or nothing of chivalry, self- 
 sacrifice, or purity in it ; those were virtues whicli were 
 not taught at Eheims. Careful as the Jesuits were 
 over the practical morality of their pupils, their severe 
 restraint had little effect in producing real habits of 
 self-control. "What little Eustace had learnt of women 
 from them, was as base and vulgar as the rest of their 
 teaching. What could it be else, if instilled by men 
 educated in the schools of Italy and France, in the age 
 which produced the foul novels of Cinthio and Bandello, 
 and compelled Eabelais, in order to escape the rack and 
 stake, to hide the light of his gi-eat wisdom, not beneath 
 a bushel, but beneath a dunghill ; the age in which 
 the Romish Church had made marriage a legalized 
 tyranny, and the laity, by a natural and pardonable 
 revulsion, had exalted adultery into a virtue and a 
 science ? That all love was lust ; that all women had 
 their price ; that profligacy, though an ecclesiastical sin, 
 was so pardonable, if not necessary, as to be hardly a 
 moral sin, were notions which Eustace must needs have 
 
110 TWO GENTLEMEN OF WALES. 
 
 gatliered from the hints of his preceptors ; for their 
 written works bear to this day fullest and foulest testi- 
 mony that such was their opinion ; and that their con- 
 ception of the relation of the sexes was really not a 
 whit higher than that of the profligate laity who con- 
 fessed to them. He longed to marry Rose Salterne, with 
 a wild selfish fury ; but only that he might be able to 
 claim her as his own property, and keep all others from 
 her. Of her as a co-equal and ennobling helpmate ; as 
 one in whose honour, glory, growth of heart and soul, 
 his own were inextricably wrapt up, he had never 
 dreamed. Marriage would prevent God from being 
 angry with that, with which otherwise He might be 
 angry; and therefore the sanction of the Church was 
 the more '^ probable and safe" course. But as yet his suit 
 was in very embryo. He could not even tell whether 
 Rose knew of his love ; and he wasted miserable hours 
 in maddening thoughts, and tost all night upon his 
 sleepless bed, and rose next morning fierce and pale, 
 to invent fresh excuses for going over to her uncle's 
 house, and lingering about the fruit which he dared not 
 snatch. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE TWO WATS OF BEING CROST IN LOVE. 
 
 " I could not love thee, dear, so mucli, 
 Loved I not honour more." — Lovelace. 
 
 And what all this while has become of the fair breaker 
 of so many hearts, to whom I have not yet even intro- 
 duced my readers ? 
 
 She was sitting in the little farm-house beside the 
 mill, buried in the green depths of the Valley of Combe, 
 half-w^ay between Stow and Chapel, sulking as much as 
 her sweet nature would let her, at being thus shut out 
 from all the grand doings at Bideford, and forced to 
 keep a Martinmas Lent in that far western glen. So 
 lonely was she, in fact, that though she regarded Eustace 
 Leigh with somewhat of aversion, and (being a good 
 Protestant) with a great deal of suspicion, she could not 
 find it in her heart to avoid a chat with him whenever 
 he came down to the farm and to its mill, which he con- 
 trived to do, on I know not what w^ould-be errand, 
 almost every day. Her uncle and aunt at first looked 
 stiff enougli at these visits, and the latter took care 
 
112 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 always to make a tliird in every conversation ; but still 
 Mr. Leigh was a gentleman's son, and it would not do 
 to be rude to a neighbouring squire and a good customer; 
 and Rose was the rich man's daughter, and they poor 
 cousins, so it would not do cither to quarrel with her : 
 and besides, the pretty maid, half by wilfulness and 
 half by her sweet winning tricks, generally contrived 
 to get her own way wheresoever she went ; and she her- 
 self had been wise enouoh to be 2: her aunt never to 
 
 O CD 
 
 leave them alone, — for she " could not a-bear the sight of 
 Mr. Eustace, only she must have some one to talk with 
 do^vn here." On which her aunt considered, that she 
 herself was but a simple country woman ; and that 
 townsfolks' ways of course must be very different from 
 hers ; and that people knew their own business best ; and 
 so forth, and let things go on their OAvn way. Eustace, 
 in the meanwhile, who knew well that the difference 
 in creed between him and Rose was likely to be the 
 very hardest obstacle in the way of his love, took care 
 to keep his private opinions well in the background; 
 and instead of trying to convert the folk at the mill, 
 daily bought milk or flour fi'om them, and gave it away 
 to the old women in Moorwinstow (who agreed that after 
 all, for a Papist, he was a godly young man enough) ; 
 and at last, having taken counsel with Campian and 
 Parsons on certain political plots then on foot, came with 
 them to the conclusion that they would all three go to 
 Church the next Sxmday. Where Messrs. Evan Morgans 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 113 
 
 and ^lorpran Evans, having crammed up the rubrics 
 beforehand, behaved themselves in a most ortliodox 
 and unexceptionable manner ; as did also poor Eustace, 
 to the great wonder of all good folks, and then went 
 home flattering himself that he had taken in parson, 
 clerk, and people ; not knowing in his simple unsim- 
 plicitv, and cunning foolishness, that each good wife in 
 the parish was saying to the other, " He turned Pro- 
 testant ? The devil turned monk ! He's only after 
 ^listi-ess Salterne, the young hypocrite." 
 
 But if the two Jesuits found it expedient, for the 
 holy cause in which they were embarked, to reconcile 
 themselves outwardly to the powers that were, they 
 were none the less busy in private in plotting their 
 overthrow. 
 
 Ever since April last they had been playing at hide- 
 and-seek through the length and breadth of England, 
 and now they were only lying quiet till expected news 
 from Ireland should give them their cue, and a great 
 " rising of the west " should sweep from her throne that 
 stiffnecked, persecuting, excommunicate, reprobate, ille- 
 gitimate, and profligate usurper, who falsely called 
 herself the Queen of England. 
 
 For they had as stoutly persuaded themselves in those 
 days, as they have in these (with a real Baconian con- 
 tempt of the results of sensible experience), that tlie 
 heart of England was really with them, and that the 
 British nation was on the point of returning to the 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
114 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 bosom of the Catholic Church, and giving up Elizabeth 
 to be led in chains to the feet of the rightful Lord of 
 Creation, the Old Man of the Seven Hills. And 
 this fair hope, which has been skipping just in 
 front of them for centuries, always a step further off, 
 like the place where the rainbow touches the ground, 
 they used to announce at times, in language which ter- 
 rified old Mr. Leigh. One day, indeed, as Eustace 
 entered his father's private room, after his usual visit 
 to the mill, he could hear voices high in dispute ; Parsons 
 as usual, blustering ; Mr. Leigh peevishly deprecating, 
 and Campian, who was really the sweetest-natured of 
 men, trying to pour oil on the troubled waters. Whereat 
 Eustace (for the good of the cause, of course) stopped 
 outside and listened. 
 
 "My excellent Sir," said Mr. Leigh, " does not 
 your very presence here show how I am affected 
 toward the holy cause of the Catholic faith? But I 
 cannot in the meanwhile forget that I am an English- 
 man." 
 
 "And what is England?" said Parsons : " A heretic and 
 schismatic Babylon, whereof it is written, ' Come out of 
 her, my people, lest you be partaker of her plagues.' 
 Yea, wliat is a country? An arbitrary division of ter- 
 ritory by the princes of this world, who are nought, and 
 come to nought. They are created by the people's will ; 
 their existence depends on the sanction of him to whom 
 all power is given in heaven and earth — our holy 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 115 
 
 father tlie Pope. Take away the latter, and what is a 
 king? — the people wlio have made him, may unmake 
 him." 
 
 " My dear Sir, recollect that I have sworn allegiance 
 to Queen Elizabeth !" 
 
 " Yes, Sir, you have, Sir ; and, as I have shown at 
 large in my writings, you were absolved from that 
 allegiance from the moment that the bull of Pius the 
 Fifth declared her a heretic and excommunicate, and 
 thereby to have forfeited all dominion whatsoever. I 
 tell you, Sir, what I thought you should have known 
 already, that since the year 1569, England has had no 
 Queen, no magistrates, no laws, no lawful authority 
 whatsoever ; and that to own allegiance to any English 
 magistrate, Sir, or to plead in an English court of 
 law, is to disobey the apostolic precept, ' How dare 
 you go to law before the unbelievers ?' I tell you, 
 Sir, rebellion is now not merely permitted, it is a 
 duty." 
 
 " Take care. Sir ; for God's sake, take care !" said Mr. 
 Leigh. " Eight or wrong, I cannot have such language 
 used in my house. For the sake of my wife and chil- 
 dren, I cannot !" 
 
 " My dear brother Parsons, deal more gently with the 
 flock," interposed Campian. " Your opinion, though 
 probable, as I well know, in the eyes of most of our 
 order, is hardly safe enough here ; the opposite Is at 
 least so safe that Mr. Leigh may well excuse his con- 
 
 i2 
 
116 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 science for accepting it. After all, are we not sent 
 hither to proclaim this very thing, and to relieve the 
 souls of good Catholics from a burden which has seemed 
 to them too heavy?" 
 
 " Yes," said Parsons half sulkily, " to allow all 
 Balaams who will to sacrifice to Baal, while they call 
 themselves by the name of the Lord." 
 
 *' My dear brother, have I not often reminded you 
 that Xaaman was allowed to bow himself in the house 
 of Rimmon? And can we therefore complain of the 
 office to which the Holy Father has appointed us, to 
 declare to such as Mr. Leigh his especial grace, by 
 which the bull of Pius the Fifth (on whose soul God 
 have mercy !) shall henceforth bind the Queen and the 
 heretics only ; but in no ways the Catholics, at least as 
 long as the present tyranny prevents the pious purposes 
 of the bull?" 
 
 " Be it so. Sir ; be it so. Only observe this, Mr. 
 Leigh, that our brother Campian confesses this to be a 
 tyranny. Observe, Sir, that the bull does still bind the 
 so-called Queen, and that she and her magistrates are 
 still none the less usurpers, nonentities, and shadows of 
 a shade. And observe this. Sir, that when that which 
 is lawful is excused to the weak, it remains no less 
 lawful to the strong. The seven thousand who had not 
 bowed the knee to Baal did not slay his priests ; but 
 Elijah did, and won to himself a good reward. And if 
 the rest of the children of Israel sinned not in not 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 117 
 
 slaying Eglon, yet Ehud's deed was none the less 
 justified by all laws human and divine." 
 
 " For heaven's sake, do not talk so, Sir ! or I must 
 leave the room. What have I to do with Ehud and 
 Eglon, and slaughters, and tyrannies ? Our Queen is a 
 very good Queen, if Heaven would but grant her repent- 
 ance, and turn her to the true faith. I have never been 
 troubled about religion, nor any one else that I know of 
 in the west country." 
 
 " You forget Mr. Trudgeon of Launceston, father, 
 and poor Father Mayne," interposed Eustace, who had 
 by this time slipped in ; and Campian added softly — 
 
 " Yes, your West of England also has been honoured 
 by its martyrs, as well as my London by the precious 
 blood of Story." 
 
 '' What, young malapert?" cried poor Leigh, facing- 
 round upon his son, glad to find any one on whom he 
 might vent his ill humour ; " are you, too, against me, 
 with a murrain on you? And pray, what the devil 
 brought Cuthbert Mayne to the gallows, and turned 
 Mr. Trudgeon (he was always a foolish hot-head) out of 
 house and home, but just such treasonable talk as Mr. 
 Parsons must needs liold in my house, to make a beggar 
 of me and my children, as he will before he has done?" 
 
 " The blessed Virgin forbid !" said Campian. 
 
 " The blessed Virgin forbid ? But you must help her 
 to forbid it, Mr. Campian, We should never have had 
 the law of 1571, against bulls, and Agnus Deis, and 
 
118 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 blessed grains, if the Pope's bull of 1569 had not made 
 them matter of treason, by preventing a poor creature's 
 sa^dng his soul in the true Church without putting his 
 neck into a halter by denying the Queen's authority." 
 
 " What, Sir?" almost roared Parsons, " do you dare 
 to speak evil of the edicts of the Vicar of Christ ?" 
 
 " I ? No. I didn't. Who says I did ? All I meant 
 was, I am sm-e — Mr. Campian, you are a reasonable 
 man, speak for me." 
 
 " 3klr. Leigh only meant, I am sure, that the Holy 
 Father's prudent intentions have been so far defeated by 
 the perverseness and invincible misunderstanding of 
 the heretics, that that which was in itself meant for the 
 good of the oppressed English Catholics has been per- 
 verted to their harm." 
 
 " And thus, Reverend Sir," said Eustace, glad to get 
 into his father's good graces again, " my father attaches 
 blame, not to the Pope — Heaven forbid ! — but to the 
 pravity of his enemies." 
 
 " And it is for this very reason," said Campian, " that 
 we have brought with us the present merciful explana- 
 tion of the bull." 
 
 " I'll tell you what, gentlemen," said Mr. Leigh, who, 
 like other weak men, grew in valour as his opponent 
 seemed inclined to make peace, " I don't think the 
 declaration was needed. After the new law of 1571 
 was made, it was never put in force till Mayne and 
 Trudgeon made fools of themselves, and that was full 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 119 
 
 six years. There Avere a few offenders, they say, who 
 were brought up and admonished, and let go ; but even 
 that did not happen down here, and need not happen 
 now, unless you put my son here (for you shall never 
 put me, I waiTant you) upon some deed which liad 
 better be left alone, and so bring us all to shame." 
 
 " Your son, Sir, if not openly vowed to God, has, I 
 hope, a due sense of that inward vocation which we 
 have seen in him, and reverences his spiritual fathers too 
 well to listen to the temptations of his earthly father." 
 
 " What, Sir, will you teach my son to disobey me ?" 
 ' " Your son is ours also. Sir. This is strange language 
 in one who owes a debt to the Church, which it was 
 charitably fancied he meant to pay in the person of his 
 child." 
 
 These last words touched poor Mr. Leigh in a sore 
 point, and breaking all bounds, he swore roundly at 
 Parsons, who stood foaming with rage. 
 
 '' A plague upon you. Sir, and a black assizes for you, 
 for you will come to the gallows yet ! Do you mean to 
 taunt me in my own house with tliat liartland landV 
 You had better go back and ask those who sent you, 
 where the dispensation to hold the land is, which they 
 promised to get me years ago, and have gone on putting 
 me off, till they have got my money, and my son, and 
 my conscience, and I vow before all the saints, seem 
 now to want my head over and above. God help me !" 
 — and the poor man's eyes fairly filled with tears. 
 
120 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 Now was Eustace's turn to be roused ; for, after all, 
 he was an Englishman and a gentleman ; and he said 
 kindly enough, but hrmlj — 
 
 " Courage, my dearest father. Kemember that I am 
 still your son, and not a Jesuit yet ; and whether I ever 
 become one, I promise you, will depend mainly on the 
 treatment which you meet with at the hands of these 
 reverend gentlemen, for whom I, as having brought 
 them hither, must consider myself as surety to you." 
 
 If a powder-barrel had exploded in the Jesuits' faces, 
 they could not have been more amazed. Campian 
 looked blank at Parsons, and Parsons at Campian ; till 
 the stouter-hearted of the two, recovering his breath at 
 last — 
 
 " Sir ! Do you know. Sir, the curse pronounced on 
 those who, after putting their hand to tiie plough, look 
 back?" 
 
 Eustace was one of those impulsive men, with a lack 
 of moral courage, who dare raise the devil, but never dare 
 fight him after he has been raised ; and he now tried 
 to pass off his speech by winking and making signs in 
 the direction of his father, as much as to say that he was 
 only trying to quiet the old man's fears. But Campian 
 was too frightened, Parsons too angry, to take his hints : 
 and he had to carry his part through. 
 
 " All I read is, Father Parsons, that such are not fit 
 for the kingdom of God ; of which high honour I have 
 for some time past felt myself unworthy. I have much 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 121 
 
 doubt just now as to my vocation ; and in the meanwliile 
 have not forgotten that I am a citizen of a free country." 
 And so saying, he took his father's arm, and walked out. 
 
 His last words had hit the Jesuits hard. They had 
 put the poor cobweb-spinners in mind of the humiliating 
 fact, which they have had thrust on them daily fi*om 
 that time till now, and yet have never learnt the lesson, 
 that all their scholastic cunning, plotting, intriguing, 
 bulls, pardons, indulgences, and the rest of it, are, on 
 this side the Channel, a mere enchanter's cloud-castle 
 and Fata Morgana, which vanishes into empty air by 
 one touch of that magic wand, the constable's staff. 
 " A citizen of a free country !" — there was the rub ; and 
 they looked at each other in more utter perplexity than 
 ever. At last Parsons spoke. 
 
 " There's a woman in the wind. I'll lay my life on 
 it. I saw him blush up crimson yesterday, when liis 
 mother asked him whether some Rose Salterne or other 
 was still in the neighbourhood." 
 
 " A woman ? Well, the spirit may be willing, though 
 the flesh be weak. We will inquire into this. The 
 youth may do us good service as a layman ; and if any- 
 thing should happen to his elder brother, (whom the 
 saints protect !) he is heir to some wealth. In the 
 meanwhile, oiu: dear brother Parsons will perhaps see 
 the expediency of altering our tactics somewhat while 
 we are here." 
 
 And thereupon a long conversation began between 
 
122 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 the two, who had been sent together, after the wise 
 method of their order, in obedience to the precept, ' Two 
 are better than one,' in order that Campian might 
 restrain Parsons's vehemence, and Parsons spur on 
 Campian's gentleness, and so each act as the supplement 
 of the other, and each also, it must be confessed, give 
 advice pretty nearly contradictory to his fellow's if occa- 
 sion should require, "without the danger," as their writers 
 have it, " of seeming changeable and inconsistent." 
 
 The upshot of this conversation was, that in a day or 
 two (during which time Mr. Leigh and Eustace also had 
 made the amende honorable, and matters went smoothly 
 enough) Father Campian asked Father Francis the 
 household chaplain to allow him, as an especial favour, to 
 hear Eustace's usual confession on the ensuing Friday. 
 
 Poor Father Francis dared not refuse so great a man ; 
 and assented with an inward groan, knowing well that 
 the intent was to worm out some family secrets, whereby 
 his power would be diminished, and the Jesuit's in- 
 creased. For the regular priesthood and the Jesuits 
 throughout England were towards each other in a state 
 of armed neutrality, which wanted but little at any 
 moment to become open war, as it did in James the 
 First's time, when those meek missionaries, by their 
 gentle moral tortures, literally hunted to death the poor 
 Popish bishop of Hippopotamus (that is to say, London) 
 for the time being. 
 
 However, Campian heard Eustace's confession j and 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 123 
 
 by putting to him such questions as may be easily 
 conceived by those who know anything about the con- 
 fessional, discovered satisfactorily enough, that he was 
 what Campian would have called " in love :" though I 
 should question much the propriety of the term as 
 applied to any facts which poor prurient Campian dis- 
 covered, or indeed knew how to discover, seeing that a 
 swine has no eye for pearls. But he had found out 
 enough ; he smiled, and set to work next vigorously to 
 discover who the lady might be. 
 
 If he had frankly said to Eustace, " I feel for you : 
 and if your desires are reasonable, or lawful, or possible, 
 I will help you with all my heart and soul," he might 
 have had the young man's secret heart, and saved 
 himself an hour's trouble ; but, of course, he took in- 
 stinctively the crooked and suspicious method, expected 
 to find the case the worst possible, — as a man was bound 
 to do who had been trained to take the lowest possible 
 view of human nature, and to consider the basest motives 
 as the mainspring of all human action, — and began his 
 moral torture accordingly by a series of delicate ques- 
 tions, which poor Eustace dodged in every possible 
 way, though he knew that the good father was too 
 cunning for him, and that he must give in at last. 
 Nevertheless, like a rabbit who runs squealing round 
 and round before the weasel, into whose jaws it knows 
 that it must jump at last by force of fascination, he 
 parried and parried, and pretended to be stupid, and 
 
124 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 surprised, and lionourably scrupulous, and even angry ; 
 while every question as to her being married or single, 
 Catholic or heretic, English or foreign, brought his 
 tormentor a step nearer the goal. x\t last, when 
 Campian, finding the business not such a very bad 
 one, had asked something about her worldly wealtli, 
 Eustace saw a door of escape, and sprang at it, 
 
 " Even if she be a heretic, she is heiress to one of the 
 wealthiest merchants in Devon.'' 
 
 "Ah!"' said Campian, thoughtfully. "And she is 
 but eighteen, you say?" 
 
 " Only eighteen." 
 
 " Ah ! well, my son, there is time. She may be re- 
 conciled to the Church : or you may change." 
 
 " I shall die first." 
 
 " Ah, poor lad ! Well ; she may be reconciled, and 
 her wealth may be of use to the cause of Heaven." 
 
 " And it shall be of use. Only absolve me, and let 
 me be at peace. Let me have but her," he cried 
 piteously. " I do not want her wealth, — not I ! Let 
 me have but her, and that but for one year, one month, 
 one day ! — and all the rest, — money, fame, talents, yea, 
 my life itself, hers if it be needed, — are at the service of 
 Holy Church. Ay, I shall glory in showing my devo- 
 tion by some special sacrifice, — some desperate deed. 
 Prove me now, and see what there is I will not do !" 
 
 And so Eustace was absolved ; after Avhich Campian 
 added, — 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 125 
 
 " This is indeed Avell, my son ; for there is a thing 
 to be done now, but it may be at the risk of life." 
 
 " Prove me !" cried Eustace impatiently. 
 
 " Here is a letter which was brought me last night ; 
 no matter from whence ; you can understand it better 
 than I, and I longed to have shown it you, but that 1 
 feared my son had become " 
 
 " You feared "v^Tongly, then, my dear Father Cam- 
 pian." 
 
 So Campian translated to him the cipher of the letter. 
 
 " This to Evan Morgans, gentleman, at Mr. Leigh's 
 house in Moorwinstow, Devonshire. Xews may be 
 had by one who will go to the shore of Clovelly, any 
 evening after the 2.5th of November, at dead low-tide, 
 and there watch for a boat, rowed by one with a red 
 beard, and a Portugal by his speech. If he be asked, 
 ' How many ? ' he will answer, ' Eight hundred and 
 one.' Take his letters and read them. If the shore be 
 watched, let him who comes show a light three times 
 in a safe place under the cliff above the town; below is 
 dangerous landing. Farewell, and expect great things !" 
 
 " I will go," said Eustace ; " to-morrow is the 25th, 
 and I know a sure and easy place. Your friend seems 
 to know these shores well." 
 
 "Ah! what is it we do not, know?" said Campian, 
 with a mysterious smile. " And now ? " 
 
 " And now, to prove to you how I trust to you, you 
 shall come with me, and see this — the lady of whom I 
 
126 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 spoke, and judge for yourself whether my fault is not a 
 venial one." 
 
 " Ah, my son, have I not absolved you already V 
 What have I to do with fair faces? Nevertheless, I 
 will come, both to show you that I trust you, and it 
 may be to help towards the reclaiming a heretic, and 
 saving a lost soul : who knows?" 
 
 So the two set out together ; and, as it was appointed, 
 they had just got to the top of the liill between Chapel 
 and Stow mill, wdien up the lane came none other than 
 Mistress Rose Salterne herself, in all the glories of a 
 new scarlet hood, from under which her large dark 
 languid eyes gleamed soft lightnings through poor 
 Eustace's heart and marrow. Up to them she tripped 
 on delicate ancles and tiny feet, tall, lithe, and grace- 
 ful, a true West-country lass ; and as she passed them 
 with a pretty blush and courtesy, even Campian looked 
 back at the fair innocent creature, whose long dark 
 Qurls, after the then countiy fashion, rolled down from 
 beneath the hood below her waist, entangling the soul 
 of Eustace Leigh within their glossy nets. 
 
 "There!" Avhispered he, trembling from head to 
 foot. " Can you excuse me now ?" 
 
 " I had excused you long ago," said the kind-hearted 
 father. " Alas, that so much fair red and white should 
 have been created only as a feast for worms!" 
 
 "A feast for gods, you mean!" cried Eustace, on 
 Avhose commoi sense the naive absurdity of the last 
 
BEING CROST IN LOVE. 127 
 
 speech struck keenly ; and then, as if to escape the 
 scolding which he deserved for his heathenry, — 
 
 " Will you let me return for a moment ? I will follow 
 you : let me go !" 
 
 Campian saw that it was of no use to say no, and 
 nodded. Eustace darted from his side, and running across 
 a field, met Rose full at tlie next turn of the road. 
 
 She started, and gave a pretty little shriek. 
 
 " Mr. Leigh ! I thought you had gone forward." 
 
 " I came back to speak to you, Rose — Mistress 
 Salterne, I mean." 
 
 "Tome?' 
 
 " To you I must speak, tell you all, or die!" And he 
 pressed up close to her. She shrank back somewhat 
 frightened. 
 
 " Do not stir ; do not go, I implore you ! Rose, only 
 hear me!" And fiercely and passionately seizing her 
 by the hand, he poured out the whole story of his love, 
 heaping her with every fantastic epithet of admiration 
 which he could devise. 
 
 There was little, perhaps, of all his words which 
 Rose had not heard many a time before ; but there was 
 a quiver in his voice, and a fire in his eye, from which 
 she shrank by instinct. 
 
 " Let me go !" she said ; " you are too rough. Sir ! " 
 
 "Ay!" he said, seizing now both her hands, 
 " Rougher, perhaps, than the gay gallants of Bideford, 
 who serenade you, and write sonnets to you, and send 
 
128 TWO WAYS OF 
 
 you posies. Eoiighcr, but more loving, Rose! Do 
 not turn away ! I shall die if you take your eyes off 
 me ! Tell me, — tell me, now here — this moment — be- 
 fore we part — if I may love you? " 
 
 *' Go away ! " she answered, struggling, and bursting 
 into tears. " This is too rude. If I am but a mer- 
 chant's daughter, I am God's child. Remember that I 
 am alone. Leave me ; go ! or I will call for help ! " 
 
 Eustace had heard or read somewhere, that such 
 expressions in a woman's mouth were mere facons 
 de parler^ and on the whole signs that she had no 
 objection to be alone, and did not intend to call for 
 help ; and he only grasped her hands the more fiercely, 
 and looked into her face with keen and hungiy 
 eyes ; but she was in earnest nevertheless, and a loud 
 shriek made him aware that, if he wished to save his 
 own good name, he must go : but there was one 
 question, for an answer to which he would risk his 
 very life. 
 
 " Yes, proud woman ! I thought so I Some of those 
 gay gallants has been beforehand with me. Tell me 
 who " 
 
 But she broke from him, and passed him, and lied 
 down the lane. 
 
 " Mark it ! " cried lie, after her. " You shall rue the 
 day when you despised Eustace Leigh ! Mark it, proud 
 beauty ! " And he turned back to join Campian, who 
 stood in some trepidation. 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 129 
 
 " You have not liiirt the maiden, my son ? I thought 
 I heard a scream." 
 
 " Hurt her ! No. WoukI God that she were dead, 
 nevertheless, and I by her ! Say no more to me, 
 father. We will home." Even Campian knew enough 
 of the world to guess what had happened, and they 
 both hm-ried home in silence. 
 
 And so Eustace Leigh played his move, and lost it. 
 
 Poor little Kose, having run nearly to Chapel, 
 stopped for very shame, and walked quietly by the 
 cottages which stood opposite the gate, and then turned 
 up the lane towards Moorwinstow village, whither she 
 was bound. But on second thoughts, she felt herself so 
 " red and flustered," that she was afraid of going into 
 the village, for fear (as she said to herself) of making 
 people talk, and so, turning into a by-path, struck away 
 toward the cliffs, to cool her blushes in the sea-breeze. 
 And there finding a quiet grassy nook beneath the crest 
 of the rocks, she sat down on the turf, and fell into 
 a great meditation. 
 
 Rose Salterne was a thorough specimen of a West- 
 coast maiden, full of passionate impulsive affections, 
 and wild dreamy imaginations, a fit subject, as the 
 North-Devon women are still, for all romantic and 
 gentle superstitions. Left early without a mother's 
 care, she had fed her fancy upon the legends and 
 ballads of her native land, till she believed — what did 
 she not believe ? — of mermaids and pixies, charms and 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
130 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 witches, dreams and omenSj and all that world of magic 
 in which most of the comitiywomen, and countrymen 
 too, believed firmly enough but twenty years ago. 
 Then her father's house was seldom without some 
 merchant, or sea-captain from foreign parts, who, like 
 Othello, had his tales of — 
 
 " Antres vast, and deserts idle, 
 Of rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads reach heaven." 
 
 And, — 
 
 " And of the cannibals that each other eat, 
 The anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
 Do grow beneath their shoulders." 
 
 All which tales, she like Desdemona devoured with 
 greedy ears, whenever she could "the house affairs 
 with haste despatch." And when these failed, there 
 was still boundless store of wonders open to her in 
 old romances which were then to be found in every 
 English house of the better class. The Legend of 
 King Arthur, Florice and Blancheflour, Sir Ysumbras, 
 Sir Guy of Warwick, Palamon and Arcite, and the 
 Eomaunt of the Rose, were with her text books and 
 canonical authorities. And lucky it was, perhaps for 
 her, that Sidney's Arcadia was still in petto, or Mr. 
 Frank (who had already seen the first book or two in 
 manuscript, and extolled it above all books past, pre- 
 sent, or to come) would have surely brought a copy 
 down for Rose, and thereby have turned her poor little 
 flighty brains upside down for ever. And with licr 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 131 
 
 liead fall of these, it was no wonder if she had likened 
 herself of late more than once to some of those peerless 
 princesses of old, for whose fair hand paladins and 
 kaisers thundered against each other in tilted field ; and 
 perhaps she would not have been sony (provided, of 
 course, no one was killed) if duels and passages of arms 
 in honour of her, as her father reasonably dreaded, had 
 actually taken place. 
 
 For Rose was not only well aware that she was 
 wooed, but found the said wooing (and little shame to 
 her) a very pleasant process. Not that she had any 
 wish to break hearts : she did not break her heart for 
 any of her admirers, and why should they break theirs 
 for her ? They were all very charming, each in their way 
 (the gentlemen, at least ; for she had long since learnt 
 to turn up her nose at merchants and bui'ghers) ; but one 
 of them was not so very much better than the other. 
 
 Of course, Mr. Frank Leigh was the most charming ; 
 but then, as a courtier and squire of dames, he had 
 never given her a sign of real love, nothing but sonnets 
 and compliments, and there was no trusting such things 
 from a gallant, who was said (though, by-the-bye, most 
 scandalously) to have a lady love at Milan, and another 
 at Vienna, and half-a-dozen in the Court, and half-a- 
 dozen more in the City. 
 
 And very charming was Mr. William Cary, with 
 his quips and his jests, and his galliards and lavoltas : 
 over and above his rich inheritance; but then, charm- 
 
 k2 
 
132 TTVO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 ing also Mr. Coffin, of Portledge, though he were a 
 little proud and stately; but which of the two should 
 she choose ? It would be very pleasant to be mistress 
 of Clovelly Court ; but just as pleasant to find herself 
 lady of Portledge, where the Coffins had lived ever 
 since Noah's flood (if, indeed, they had not merely 
 returned thither after that temporary displacement), and 
 to bring her wealth into a family which was as proud of 
 its antiquity as any nobleman in Devon, and might 
 have made a fourth to that famous trio of Devonshire 
 Cs, of which it is written, — 
 
 " Crocker, Cruwys, and Copplestone, 
 "When the Conqueror came were all at home." 
 
 And Mr. Hugh Fortescue, too — people said that he 
 was certain to become a great soldier — perhaps as great 
 as his brother Arthur — and that would be pleasant 
 enough, too, though he was but the younger son of an 
 innumerable family: but then, so was Amyas Leigh. 
 Ah, poor Amyas ! Her girl's fancy for him had vanished, 
 or rather, perhaps, it was very much what it always had 
 been, only that four or five more girl's fancies beside it 
 had entered in, and kept it in due subjection. But still, 
 she could not help thinking a good deal about him, and 
 his voyage, and the reports of his great strength, and 
 beauty, and valour, which had already reached her in 
 that out-of-the-way comer ; and though she was not in 
 the least in love with him, she could not help hoping 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 133 
 
 that he had at least (to put her pretty little thought in 
 the mildest shape) not altogether forgotten her ; and was 
 hungering too, with all her fancy, to give him no peace 
 till he had told her all the wonderful things which he 
 had seen and done in this ever-memorable voyage. 
 So that altogether, it was no wonder, if in her last 
 night^s dreams, the figure of Amyas had been even 
 more forward and troublesome than that of Frank or 
 the rest. 
 
 But, moreover, another figm-e had been forward and 
 troublesome enough in last night's sleep-world; and 
 forward and troublesome enough, too, now, in to-day's 
 waking- world, namely, Eustace, the rejected. How 
 strange that she should have dreamt of him the night 
 before ! and dreamt, too, of his fighting with Mr. Frank 
 and Mr. Amyas ! It must be a warning — see, she had 
 met him the very next day in this strange way ; so the 
 first half of her dream had come true ; and after what 
 had past, she only had to breathe a whisper, and the 
 second part of the dream would come true also. If she 
 wished for a passage of arms in her own honour, she 
 could easily enough compass one : not that she would 
 do it for worlds ! And after all, though Mr. Eustace 
 had been very rude and naughty, yet still it was not his 
 own fault; he could not help being in love with her. 
 And — and, in short, the poor little maid felt herself one 
 of the most important personages on earth, with all the 
 cares (or hearts) of the country in her keeping, and as 
 
134 TWO WAYS OF BEIXa 
 
 much perplexed with matters of weight as ever was any 
 Cleophila or Dianeme, Fiordispina or Flourdeluce, in 
 verse run tame, or prose run mad. 
 
 Poor little Rose ! Had she but had a mother ! But 
 she was to learn her lesson, such as it was, in another 
 school. She was too shy (too proud, perhaps), to tell 
 her aunt her mighty troubles; but a counsellor she 
 must have ; and after sitting with her head in her hands 
 for half-an-hour or more, she arose suddenly, and started 
 off along the cliffs towards Marsland. She would go 
 and see Lucy Passmore, the white witch ; Lucy knew 
 everything ; Lucy would tell her what to do ; perhaps 
 even whom to marry. 
 
 Lucy was a fat jolly woman of fifty, with little pig- 
 eyes, Avhich twinkled like sparks of fire, and eyebrows 
 which sloped upwards and outwards, like those of a 
 satyr, as if she had been (as indeed she had) all 
 her life looking out of the corners of her eyes. Her 
 qualifications as white witch were boundless cunning, 
 equally boundless good natm-e, considerable know- 
 ledge of human weaknesses, some mesmeric power, 
 some skill in " yarbs," as she called her simples, a 
 firm faith in the virtue of her own incantations, and 
 the faculty of holding her tongue. By dint of these 
 she contrived to gain a fair share of money, and also 
 (which she liked even better) of power, among the 
 simple folk for many miles round. If a child was 
 scalded, a tooth ached, a piece of silver was stolen, a 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 13o 
 
 heifer shrew-struck, a pig bewitched, a young damsel 
 crost in love, Lucy was called in, and Lucy found a 
 remedy, especially for the latter complaint. Now and 
 then she found herself on ticklish ground, for the kind- 
 heartedness which compelled her to help all distressed 
 damsels out of a scrape, sometimes compelled her also 
 to help them into one : whereon, enraged fathers called 
 Lucy ugly names, and threatened to send her into 
 Exeter gaol for a witch, and she smiled quietly, and 
 hinted that if she were " like some that were ready to 
 return evil for evil, such talk as that would bring no 
 blessing on them that spoke it ;" which being translated 
 into plain English, meant, " If you trouble me, I will 
 overlook [i.e. fascinate) you, and then your pigs "vvill 
 die, your horses stray, your cream tm-n sour, your 
 bams be fired, your son have St. Yitus's dance, your 
 daughter fits, and so on, woe on woe, till you are very 
 probably starved to death in a ditch, by \-irtue of this 
 terrible little eye of mine, at which, in spite of all your 
 swearing and bullying, you know you are now shaking 
 in your shoes for fear. So you had much better hold 
 your tongue, give me a drink of cider, and leave ill 
 alone, lest you make it worse." 
 
 Not that Lucy ever proceeded to any such fearful 
 extremities. On the contrary, her boast, and her belief 
 too, was, that she was sent into the world to make poor 
 souls as happy as she could, by lawful means, of course, 
 if possible, but if not — why unlawful ones were better 
 
136 TWO WAYS OF BEINa 
 
 than none ; for she " couldn't abear to see the poor 
 creatures taking on; she was too, too tenderhearted.^' 
 And so she was, to every one but her husband, a tall, 
 simple-hearted rabbit-faced man, a good deal older than 
 herself. Fully agTceing with Sir Richard Grenvile's 
 great axiom, that he who cannot obey cannot rule, Lucy 
 had been for the last five-and-twenty years training 
 him pretty smartly to obey her, with the intention, it is 
 to be charitably hoped, of letting him rule her in turn 
 when his lesson was perfected. He bore his honours, 
 however, meekly enough, having a boundless respect for 
 his wife's wisdom, and a firm belief in her supernatural 
 powers, and let her go her own way and earn her own 
 money, while he got a little more in a truly pastoral 
 method (not extinct yet along those lonely cliffs), by 
 feeding a herd of some dozen donkeys and twenty goats. 
 The donkeys fetched, at each low-tide, white shell-sand 
 which was to be sold for manure to the neighbouring 
 farmers ; the goats fm'nished milk and " kiddy-pies ;" 
 and when there was neither milking or sand-carrying to 
 be done, old Will Passmore just sat under a sunny rock 
 and watched the buck-goats rattle their horns together, 
 thinking about nothing at all, and taking very good 
 care all the while neither to inquire nor to see who 
 came in and out of his little cottage in the glen. 
 
 The Prophetess, when Rose approached her oracular 
 cave, was seated on a tripod in front of the fire, distilling 
 strong waters out of penny royal. But no sooner did 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 137 
 
 lier distinguished visitor appear at the hatch, than the 
 still was left to take care of itself, and a clean apron and 
 mutch having been slipt on, Lucy welcomed Kose 
 with endless courtesies, and — " Bless my dear soul alive, 
 who ever would have thought to see the Rose of Tor- 
 ridge to my poor little place ! " 
 
 Rose sat down : and then ? How to begin was more 
 than she knew, and she stayed silent a full five minutes, 
 looking earnestly at the point of her shoe, till Lucy, 
 who was an adept in such cases, thought it best to 
 proceed to business at once, and save Rose the delicate 
 operation of opening the ball herself ; and so, in her own 
 way, half fawning, half familiar — 
 
 " Well, my dear yoimg lady, and what is it I can do 
 for ye ? For I guess you want a bit of old Lucy's help, 
 eh ? Though I'm most mazed to see ye here, surely. 
 I should have supposed that pretty face could manage 
 they sort of matters for itself. Eh?" 
 
 Rose, thus bluntly charged, confessed at once, and 
 with many blushes and hesitations, made her soon 
 understand that what she wanted was " To have her 
 fortune told." 
 
 "Eh? Oh? I see. The pretty face has managed 
 it a bit too well already, eh ? Tu many o'mun. pure 
 fellows ? Well, taint every may den has her pick and 
 choose, like some I know of, as be blest in love by 
 stars above. So you h'aint made up your mind, 
 then?" 
 
138 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 Rose shook her head. 
 
 *' Ah — well," she went on, in a half bantering tone. 
 "Not so asy, is it, then? One's gude for one thing, 
 and one for another, eh? One has the blood, and 
 another the money." — 
 
 And so the " cunning woman," (as she truly was,) 
 talking half to herself, ran over all the names which she 
 thought likely, peering at Rose all the while out of the 
 corners of her foxy bright eyes, while Rose stirred the 
 peat ashes steadfastly with the point of her little shoe, 
 half angry, half ashamed, half frightened, to find that 
 "the cunning Avoman " had guessed so well both her 
 suitors and her thoughts about them, and tried to look 
 unconcerned at each name as it came out. 
 
 " Well, Avell," said Lucy, who took nothing by her 
 move, simply because there was nothing to take ; 
 " think over it — think over it, my dear life ; and if you 
 did set your mind on any one — why, then — then maybe 
 I might help you to a sight of him." 
 
 " A sight of him?" 
 
 " His sperrit, dear life, his sperrit only, I mane. I 
 'udn't have no keeping company in my house, no, not 
 for gowld untowld, I 'udn't ; but the sperrit of mun — 
 to see whether mun would be true or not, you'd like to 
 know that, now, 'udn't you, my darling ?" 
 
 Rose sighed, and stiiTcd the ashes about vehemently. 
 
 " I must first know who it is to be. If you could show 
 me that — now — " 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 139 
 
 " Oil, I can show ye that, tu, I can. Ben there's a 
 way to't, a sure way ; but 'tis mortal cold for the time 
 o' year, you zee." 
 
 *' But what is it, then?" said Rose, who had in 
 her heart been longing for something of that very 
 kind, and had half made up her mind to ask for a 
 charm. 
 
 *' Why, you'm not afraid to goo into the say by night 
 for a minute, are you? And to-morrow night would 
 serve, too ; 'twill be just low tide to midnight." 
 
 " If you would come with me, perhaps — " 
 
 " I'll come, I'll come, and stand within call, to be 
 sm*e. Only do ye mind this, dear soul alive, not to goo 
 telling a crumb about mun, noo, not for the world, or 
 yu'll see nought at all, indeed, now. And beside, there's 
 a noxious business gi'ow'd up against me up to Chapel 
 there ; and I hear tell how Mr. Leigh saith I shall to 
 Exeter gaol for a witch — did ye ever hear the likes ? — 
 because his groom Jan saith I overlooked mun — the 
 Papist dog ! And now never he nor th' ould Father 
 Francis goo by me without a spetting, and saying of 
 their Aves and Malificas — I do know what their Booman 
 Latin do mane, zo well as ever they, I du! — and a 
 making o' their charms and incantations to their saints 
 and idols ! They be mortal feared of witches, they 
 Papists, and mortal hard on 'em, even on a pm-e body 
 like me, that doth a bit in the white way ; 'case why 
 
140 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 you see, dear life/' said she, with one of her humorous 
 twinkles, " tu to a trade do never agree. Do ye try my 
 bit of a charm, now ; do ye ! " 
 
 Kose could not resist the temptation ; and between 
 them both the charm was agreed on, and the next night 
 was fixed for its trial, on the payment of certain cur- 
 rent coins of the realm (for Lucy, of course, must live 
 by her trade) ; and slipping a tester into the dame's hand 
 as earnest, Lucy went away home, and got there in 
 safety. 
 
 But in the meanwhile, at the very horn* that Eustace 
 had been prosecuting his suit in the lane at Moorwinstow, 
 a very different scene was being enacted in Mrs. Leigh's 
 room at Burrough. 
 
 For the night before, Amyas, as he was going to bed, 
 heard his brother Frank in the next room tune his lute, 
 and then begin to sing. And both their windows being 
 open, and only a thin partition between the chambers, 
 Amyas' s admiring ears came in for every word of the 
 following canzonet, sung in that delicate and mellow 
 tenor voice for which Frank was famed among all fair 
 ladies : — 
 
 " Ah tyrant Love, Megoera's serpents bearing, 
 Why thus requite my sighs with venom'd smart ? 
 
 Ah, ruthless dove, the vulture's talons wearing, 
 Why flesh them, traitress, in this faithful heart ? 
 
 Is this my meed ? Must dragons' teeth alone 
 In Venus' lawns by lovers' hands be sown ? 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 141 
 
 Nay, gentlest Cupid ; 'twas my pride undid me ; 
 Nay, guiltless dove ; by mine own wound I fell. 
 
 To worship, not to wed. Celestials bid me : 
 I dreamt to mate in heaven, and wake in hell ; 
 
 For ever doom'd, Ixion-like, to reel 
 On mine own passions' ever-burning wheel." 
 
 At which the simple sailor sighed, and longed that he 
 could write such neat verses, and sing them so sweetly. 
 How he would besiege the ear of Kose Salterne with 
 amorous ditties ! But still, he could not be everything ; 
 and if he had the bone and muscle of the family, it was 
 but fair that Frank should have the brains and voice ; 
 and, after all, he was bone of his bone and flesh of his 
 flesh, and it was just the same as if he himself could do 
 all the fine things which Frank could do ; for as long as 
 one of the family won honour, what matter which of 
 them it was ? Whereon he shouted through the wall, 
 " Good night, old song- thrush ; I suppose I need not pay 
 the musicians." 
 
 " What, awake ?" answered Frank. " Come in here, 
 and lull me to sleep with a sea-song." 
 
 So Amy as went in, and found Frank laid on the out- 
 side of his bed, not yet undrest. 
 
 " I am a bad sleeper," said he ; "I spend more time, 
 I fear, in burning the midnight oil than prudent men 
 should. Come and be my jongleur, my minne-singer, 
 and tell me about Andes, and cannibals, and the ice- 
 regions, and the fire-regions, and the paradises of the 
 West." 
 
142 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 So Amjas sat doAvn, and told : but somehow, every 
 story which he tried to tell came round, Ly crooked 
 paths, yet sure, to none other point than Rose Salterne, 
 and how he thought of her here, and thought of her 
 there, and how he wondered what she would say if she 
 had seen him in this adventin-e, and how he longed to 
 have had her with him to show her that glorious sight, 
 till Frank let him have his own way, and then out came 
 the whole story of the simple fellow's daily and hourly 
 devotion to her, through those three long years of world- 
 wide wanderings. 
 
 " And oh, Frank, I could hardly think of anything 
 but her in the church the other day, God forgive me ! 
 and it did seem so hard for her to be the only face which 
 I did not see — and have not seen her yet, either." 
 
 " So I thought, dear lad," said Frank, with one of his 
 sweetest smiles ; " and tried to get her father to let her 
 impersonate the nymph of Torridge." 
 
 " Did you, you dear kind fellow? That Avould have 
 been too delicious." 
 
 " Just so, too delicious ; wherefore, I suppose, it was 
 ordained not to be, that which was being delicious 
 enough.' 
 
 " And is she as pretty as ever?" 
 
 " Ten times as pretty, dear lad, as half the young 
 fellows round have discovered. If you mean to win her 
 and wear her, (and God gi-ant you may fare no worse!) 
 you will have rivals enough to get rid of." 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 143 
 
 " Humpli !" said Amyas, " I hope I shall not have to 
 make short work with some of them." 
 
 " I hope not," said Frank, laughing. *' Now go to 
 bed, and to-morrow morning give your sword to mother 
 to keep, lest you should be tempted to draw it on any of 
 her Majesty's lieges." 
 
 " No fear of that, Frank ; I am no swash-buckler, 
 thank God ; but if any one gets in my way, I'll serve 
 him as the mastiif did the terrier, and just drop him 
 over the quay into the river, to cool himself, or my 
 name's not Amyas." 
 
 And the giant swung himself laughing out of the 
 room, and slept all night like a seal, not without dreams, 
 of course, of Eose Salterne, 
 
 The next morning, according to his wont, he went 
 into his mother's room, whom he was sure to find up, 
 and at her prayers ; for he liked to say his prayers, too, 
 by her side, as he used to do when he was a little boy. 
 It seemed so homelike, he said, after three years' knock- 
 ing up and down in no-man's-land. But coming gently 
 to the door, for fear of disturbing her, and entering 
 unperceived, beheld a sight which stopped him short. 
 
 Mrs. Leigh was sitting in her chair, with her face 
 bowed fondly down upon the head of his brother Frank, 
 who knelt before her, his face buried in her lap. Amyas 
 could see that his whole form was quivering with stifled 
 emotion. Their mother was just finishing the last words 
 of a well-kno^Ti text — 
 
144 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 — '^ for my sake, and the Gospel's, shall receive a 
 hundredfold in this present life, fathers, and mothers, 
 and brothers, and sisters." 
 
 " But not a wife ! " interrupted Frank, with a voice 
 stifled with sobs ; " that was too precious a gift for even 
 Him to promise to those who gave up a first love for 
 His sake ! " 
 
 " And yet," said he, after a moment's silence, '' has 
 He not heaped me with blessings enough already, that 
 I must repine and rage at His refusing me one more, 
 even though that one be — No, mother ! I am your son, 
 and God's ; and you shall know it, even though Amyas 
 never does ! " And he looked up, with his clear blue 
 eyes and white forehead ; and his face was as the face 
 of an angel. 
 
 Both of them saw that Amyas was present, and 
 started and blushed. His mother motioned him away 
 with her eyes, and he went quietly out, as one stunned. 
 Why had his name been mentioned ? 
 
 Love, cunning love, told him all at once. This 
 was the meaning of last night's canzonet ! This was 
 why its words had seemed to fit his own heart so 
 well! His brother was his rival. And he had been 
 telling him all his love last night. What a stupid 
 brute he was! How it must have made poor Frank 
 wince ! And then Frank had listened so kindly ; even 
 bid him God speed in his suit. What a gentleman old 
 Frank was, to be sure! No wonder the Queen M'as 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 145 
 
 SO fond of him, and all the court ladies ! Why, if it 
 
 came to that, what wonder if Kose Salteme should be 
 fond of him too ? Hey-day ! " That would be a pretty 
 iish to find in my net when I come to haul it!" quoth 
 Amyas to himself, as he paced the garden ; and clutching 
 desperately hold of his locks with both hands, as if to 
 hold his poor confused head on its shoulders, he strode 
 and tramped up and down the shell-paved garden walks 
 for a full half hour, till Frank's voice, (as cheerful 
 as ever, though he more than suspected all,) called 
 him. 
 
 " Come in to breakfast, lad ; and stop grinding and 
 creaking upon those miserable limpets, before thou hast 
 set every tooth in my head on edge !" 
 
 Amyas, whether by dint of holding his head straight, 
 or by higher means, had got the thoughts of the said 
 head straight enough by this time ; and in he came, and 
 fell to upon the broiled fish and strong ale with a sort of 
 fury, as determined to do his duty to the utmost in all 
 matters that day ; and therefore, of course, in that most 
 important matter of bodily sustenance ; while his mother 
 and Frank looked at him, not without anxiety and even 
 ten'or, doubting what turn his fancy might have taken 
 in so new a case ; at last — 
 
 " My dear Amyas, you will really heat your blood 
 with all that strong ale ! Remember, those who drink 
 beer, think beer." 
 
 " Then they think right good thoughts, mother. And 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
146 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 in the meanwhile, those who drink water, think water. 
 Eh, old Frank? and here's your health." 
 
 " xVnd clouds are water," said his mother, somewhat 
 reassured by his genuine good humour ; " and so are 
 rainbows ; and clouds are angels' thrones, and rainbows 
 the sign of God's peace on earth." 
 
 Amyas understood the hint, and laughed. " Then 
 I'll pledge Frank out of the next ditch, if it please you 
 and him. But first — I say — he must hearken to a 
 parable; a manner mystery, miracle play, I have got 
 in my head, like what they have at Easter, to the town 
 hall. Now then, hearken, Madam, and I and Frank 
 will act." And up rose Amyas, and shoved back his 
 chair, and put on a solemn face. 
 
 Mrs. Leigh looked up, ti-embling; and Frank, he 
 scarce knew why, rose. 
 
 *' No ; you pitch again. You are king Da\'id, and 
 sit still upon your throne. David was a great singer, 
 you know, and a player on the viols ; and ruddy, too, 
 and of a fair countenance ; so that will fit. Now, then, 
 mother, don't look so frightened. I am not going to 
 play Goliath, for all my cubits ; I am to present Nathan 
 the prophet. Now, David, hearken; for I have a 
 message unto thee, King ! 
 
 " There were two men in one city, one rich and the 
 other poor: and the rich man had many flocks and 
 herds, and all the fine ladies in Whitehall to court if he 
 liked ; and the poor man had nothing but " 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 147 
 
 And in spite of his broad honest smile, Amyas's 
 deep voice began to tremble and choke. 
 
 Frank sprang up, and burst into tears : — " Oh ! 
 Amyas, my brother, my brother ! stop ! I cannot endure 
 this. Oh, God ! was it not enough to have entangled 
 myself in this fatal fancy, but over and above, I must 
 meet the shame of my brother's discovering it?" 
 
 "What shame, then, I'd like to know?" said Amyas, 
 recovering himself. " Look here, brother Frank ! I've 
 thought it all over in the garden; and I was an 
 ass and a braggart for talking to you as I did last 
 night. Of course you love her ! Everybody must ; 
 and I was a fool for not recollecting that; and if 
 you love her, your taste and mine agree, and what 
 can be better? I think you a sensible fellow for 
 loving her, and you think me one. And as for who 
 has her, why, you^-e the eldest ; and first come first 
 served is the rule, and best to keep to it. Besides, 
 brother Frank, though I'm no scholar, yet I'm not so 
 blind but that I tell the difference between you and me ; 
 and of course your chance against mine, for a hundred 
 to one ; and I am not going to be fool enough to row 
 against wind and tide too. I'm good enough for her, 
 I hope ; but if I am, you are better, and the good dog 
 may run, but it's the best that takes the hare ; and so 
 I have nothing more to do with the matter at all ; and 
 if you marry her, why, it will set the old house on its 
 legs again, and that's the first thing to be thought of, 
 
 l2 
 
148 TWO WAYS OF BEING 
 
 and you may just as well do it as 1, and better too. 
 Not but that it's a plague, a horrible plague ! " went 
 on Amyas, with a ludicrously doleful visage ; " but so 
 are other things too, by the dozen ; it's all in the day's 
 work, as the huntsman said when the lion eat him. 
 One would never get through the furze-croft if one 
 stopped to pull out the prickles. The pig didn't 
 scramble out of the ditch by squeaking ; and the less 
 said the sooner mended; nobody was sent into the 
 world only to suck honey-pots. What must be must, 
 man is but dust; if you can't get crumb, you must 
 fain eat crust. So I'll go and join the army in Ireland, 
 and get it out of my head, for cannon balls fright away 
 love as well as poverty does ; and that's all I've got to 
 say." Wherewith Amyas sat down, and returned to 
 the beer; while Mrs. Leigh wept tears of joy. 
 
 " Amyas ! Amyas !" said Frank ; " you must not 
 throw away the hopes of years, and for me, too ! 
 Oh, how just was your parable ! Ah ! mother mine ! 
 to what use is all my scholarship and my philosophy, 
 when this dear simple sailor-lad outdoes me at the first 
 trial of courtesy?" 
 
 " ;My children ! my children ! which of you shall I 
 love best ? Which of you is the more noble ? I 
 thanked God this morning for having given me one 
 such son : but to have found that I possess two !" And 
 Mrs. Leigh laid her head on the table, and buried her 
 face in her hands, while the generous battle went on. 
 
CROST IN LOVE. 149 
 
 " But, dearest Amy as !• 
 
 " But, Frank ! if you don't hold your tongue, I 
 must go forth. It was quite trouble enough to make 
 up one's mind, without having you afterwards^trying to 
 unmake it again.'' 
 
 " Amyas ! if you give her up to me, God do so to 
 me, and more also, if I do not hereby give her up 
 to you!" 
 
 " He had done it already — this morning !" said Mrs. 
 Leigh, looking up through her tears. " He renounced 
 her for ever on his knees before me ! only he is too 
 noble to tell you so." 
 
 " The more reason I should copy him ;" said Amyas, 
 setting his lips, and trying to look desperately deter- 
 mined, and then suddenly jumping up, he leaped upon 
 Frank, and throwing his arms round his neck, sobbed 
 out, " There, there, now ! For God's sake, let us forget 
 all, and think about our mother, and the old house, and 
 how we may win her honour before we die ! and that 
 will be enough to keep our hands full, without fretting 
 about this woman and that. — What an ass I have been 
 for years! instead of learning my calling, dreaming 
 about her, and don't know at this minute, whether she 
 cares more for me than she does for her father's 
 prentices !" 
 
 "Oh, Amyas ! every word of yom-s puts me to fresh 
 shame ! Will you believe that I know as little of her 
 likings as you do V" 
 
150 TWO WAYS OF BEING CROST IN LOVE. 
 
 "Don't tell me that, and play tlie devil's game by 
 putting fresh hopes into me, when I am trying to kick 
 them out. I won't believe it. If she is not a fool, she 
 must love you ; and if she don't, why, behanged if she 
 is worth loving!" 
 
 "My dearest Amyas! I must ask you too to make 
 no more such speeches to me. All those thoughts I 
 have forsworn." 
 
 " Only this morning ; so there is time to catch them 
 again before they are gone too far." 
 
 " Only this morning ;" said Frank, with a quiet 
 smile : " but centmies have passed since then." 
 
 " Centuries? I don't see many grey hairs yet." 
 
 " I should not have been surprised if you had, though," 
 answered Frank, in so sad and meaning a tone that 
 Amyas could only answer, 
 
 " Well, you are an angel !" 
 
 " You, at least, are something even more to the pur- 
 pose, for you are a man !" 
 
 And both spoke truth, and so the battle ended ; and 
 Frank went to his books, Avhile Amyas, who must needs 
 be doing, if he was not to dream, started oiF to the 
 dock-yard to potter about a new ship of Sir Richard's, 
 and forget his woes, in the capacity of Sir Oracle among 
 the sailors. And so he had played his move for Rose, 
 even as Eustace had, and lost her : but not as Eustace 
 had. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 CLOVELLY COURT IN THE OLDEN TIME. 
 
 " It was among the ways of good Queen Bess, 
 Who ruled as well as ever mortal can, Sir, 
 
 When she was stogg'd, and the country in a mess, 
 She was wont to send for a Devon man, Sir." 
 
 West Country Song. 
 
 The next morning Amjas Leigh was not to be found. 
 Not that he had gone out to drown himself in despair, 
 or even to bemoan himself " down by the Torridge side." 
 He had simply ridden off, Frank found, to Sir Richard 
 Grenvile at Stow : his mother at once divined the 
 truth, that he was gone to try for a post in the Irish 
 army, and sent off Frank after him to bring him home 
 again, and make him at least reconsider himself. 
 
 So Frank took horse and rode thereon ten miles or 
 more ; and then, as there were no inns on the road in 
 those days, or indeed in these, and he had some ten miles 
 more of hilly road before him, he turned down the hill 
 towards Clovelly Court, to obtain, after the hospitable 
 
152 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 humane fashion of those days, good entertainment for 
 man and liorse from Mr. Gary the squire. 
 
 And when he walked self invited, like the loud shout- 
 ing Menelaus, into the long dark wainscotted hall of the 
 Court, the first object he beheld was the mighty form of 
 Amyas, who, seated at the long table, was alternately 
 burying his face in a pasty, and the pasty in his 
 face, his sorrows having, as it seemed, only sharpened 
 his appetite, while young Will Gary, kneeling on the 
 opposite bench, with his elbows on the table, was in 
 that graceful attitude laying down the law fiercely to 
 him in a low voice. 
 
 " Hillo ! lad," cried Amyas ; " come hither and deliver 
 me out of the hands of this fire-eater, who I verily 
 believe will kill me, if I do not let him kill some one 
 else." 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Frank," said Will Gary, who, like all 
 other young gentlemen of these parts, held Frank in 
 high honour, and considered him a very oracle and 
 cynosure of fashion and chivalry ; " welcome here ; I was 
 just longing for you, too, I wanted your advice on half- 
 a-dozen matters. Sit down, and eat. There is the ale." 
 
 " None so early, thank you." 
 
 " Ah, no ! " said Amyas, burying his head in the 
 tankard, and then mimicking Frank, " avoid strong ale 
 o' mornings. It heats the blood, thickens the animal 
 spirits, and obfuscates the cerebrum with frenetical and 
 lymphatic idols, which cloud the quintessential light of 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 153 
 
 the pure reason. Eh ? young Plato, young Daniel, come 
 hither to judgment ! And yet, though I can see through 
 the bottom of the tankard already, I can see plain 
 enough still to see this, that Will shall not fight." 
 
 "Shall I not, eh? who says that? Mr. Frank, I 
 appeal to you, now ; only hear." 
 
 "We are in the judgment-seat;" said Frank, settling 
 to the pasty. " Proceed, appellant." 
 
 "Well, I was telling Amyas, that Tom Coffin of 
 Portledge ; I will stand him no longer." 
 
 " Let him be, then," said Amyas; "he could stand 
 very well by himself, when I saw him last." 
 
 " Plague on you, hold your tongue. Has he any 
 right to look at me as he does, whenever I pass him ? " 
 
 " That depends on how he looks ; a cat may look at 
 a king, provided she don't take him for a mouse." 
 
 "Oh, I know how he looks, and what he means 
 too, and he shall stop, or I will stop him. And the 
 other day, when I spoke of Eose Salterne," — "Ah ! " 
 gi'oaned Frank, "Ate's apple again!" — " (never mind 
 what I said), he bm-st out laughing in my face ; and 
 is not that a fair quarrel ? And what is more, I know 
 that he wrote a sonnet, and sent it her to Stow by a 
 market woman. What right has he to write sonnets 
 when I can't ? It's not fair play, ]\Ir. Frank, or I am a 
 Jew, and a Spaniard, and a papist ; it's not ! " And 
 Will smote the table till the plates danced again. 
 
 " My dear knight of the burning pestle, I have a 
 
154 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 plan, a device, a disentanglement, according to most 
 approved rules of chivalry. Let us fix a day, and sum- 
 mon by tuck of drum all young gentlemen under the age 
 of thirty, dwelling within fifteen miles of the habitation 
 of that peerless Oriana." 
 
 " And all prentice-boys too," cried Amyas out of the 
 pasty. 
 
 "And all prentice-boys. The bold lads shall fight 
 first, with good quarterstaves, in Bideford Market, till 
 all heads are broken ; and the head which is not 
 broken, let the back belonging to it pay the penalty of 
 the noble member's cowardice. After which grand 
 tournament, to which that of Tottenham shall be but 
 a flea-bite and a batrachomyomachy — " 
 
 " Confound you, and your long words. Sir," said poor 
 Will, " I know you are flouting me." 
 
 " Pazienza, Signor Cavaliere ; that which is to come 
 is no flouting, but bloody and warlike earnest. For 
 afterwards all the young gentlemen shall adjourn into 
 a convenient field, sand, or bog — which last will 
 be better, as no man will be able to run away, if 
 he be up to his knees in soft peat : and there strip- 
 ping to our shirts, with rapiers of equal length and 
 keenest temper, each shall slay his man, catch who 
 catch can, and the conquerors fight again, like a most 
 valiant main of gamecocks as we are, till all be dead, 
 and out of their woes ; after which the survivor, 
 bewailing before heaven and earth the cruelty of our 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 155 
 
 fair Oriana, and the slaughter which her basiliscine 
 eyes have caused, shall fall gracefully upon his sword, 
 and so end the woes of this our lovelorn generation. 
 Placetne Domini? as they used to ask in the Senate 
 at Oxford." 
 
 '• Really," said Gary, " this is too had." 
 
 " So is, pardon me, your fighting Mr. Coffin with 
 anything longer than a bodkin." 
 
 *' Bodkins are too short for such fierce Bobadils," said 
 Amy as; "they would close in so near, that we should 
 have them falling to fisticuffs after the first bout." 
 
 '^ Then let them fight with squirts across the market- 
 place ; for by heaven and the Queen's laws_, they shall 
 fight with nothing else." 
 
 " My dear Mr. Gary," went on Frank, suddenly 
 changing his bantering tone to one of the most winning 
 sweetness ; ""do not fancy that I cannot feel for you ; 
 or that I, as well as you, have not known the stings of 
 love, and the bitterer stings of jealousy. But oh, 
 ^Ir. Gary, does it not seem to you an awful thing to 
 waste selfishly upon your own quarrel that di^dne 
 wrath which, as Plato says, is the very root of all 
 virtues, and which has "been given you, like all else 
 which you have, that you may spend it in the service 
 of her whom all bad souls fear, and all virtuous souls 
 adore,— our peerless Queen? Who dares, while she 
 rules England, call his sword or his courage his own, 
 or any one's but hers ? Are there no Spaniards to con- 
 
156 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 quer, no 'vvild Irish to deliver from their oppressors, that 
 two gentlemen of Devon can find no better place to flesh 
 their blades than in each other's valiant and honom-able 
 hearts?" 
 
 "By heaven!" cried Amyas, "Frank speaks like a 
 book ; and for me, I do think that Christian gentlemen 
 may leave love quarrels to bulls and rams." 
 
 " And that the heir of Clovelly/' said Frank smiling, 
 " may find more noble examples to copy than the stags 
 in his own deer-park." 
 
 " Well," said Will penitently, " you are a great 
 scholar, Mr. Frank, and you speak like one ; but gentle- 
 men must fight sometimes, or where would be their 
 honour?" 
 
 " I speak," said Frank a little proudly, " not merely 
 as a scholar, but as a gentleman, and one who has 
 fought ere now, and to whom it has happened, Mr. 
 Gary, to kill his man (on whose soul may God have 
 mercy) ; but it is my pride to remember that I have 
 never yet fought in my o^vn quaiTcl, and my trust in 
 God that I never shall. For as there is nothing more 
 noble and blessed than to fight in behalf of those whom 
 we love, so to fight in our own private behalf is a thing 
 not to be allowed to a Christian man, unless refusal 
 imports utter loss of life or honour ; and even then, it 
 may be (though I would not lay a bui'den on any man's 
 conscience), it is better not to resist evil, but to over- 
 come it with good." 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 157 
 
 " And I can tell you, AVill," said Amyas, '' I am 
 not troubled with fear of ghosts ; but when I cut off the 
 Frenchman's head, I said to myself, " If that braggart 
 had been slandering me instead of her gracious Majesty, 
 I should expect to see that head lying on my pillow 
 every time I went to bed at night.' " 
 
 "God forbid !'' said Will with a shudder. "But 
 what shall I do ? for to the market to-morrow I will go, 
 if it were choke-ftdl of Cotos, and a ghost in each 
 coffin of the lot." 
 
 " Leave the matter to me," said Amyas. " I have 
 my device, as well as scholar Frank here ; and if there 
 be, as I suppose there must be, a quarrel in the market 
 to-morrow, see if I do not " 
 
 ''Well, you are two good fellows," said Will. 
 " Let us have another tankard in.^^ 
 
 " And drink the health of Mr. Coffin, and all gallant 
 lads of the north," said Frank ; " and now to my busi- 
 ness. I have to take this runaway youth here home to 
 his mother ; and if he will not go quietly, I have orders 
 to carry him across my saddle." 
 
 "I hope your nag has a strong back, then," said 
 Amyas ; " but I must go on and see Sir Richard, 
 Frank. It is all very well to jest as we have been 
 doing, but my mind is made up." 
 
 " Stop," said Caiy. " You must stay here to-night ; 
 first, for good fellowship's sake ; and next, because I 
 want the advice of our Phoenix here, our oracle, our 
 
158 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 paragon. There, Mr. Frank, can you construe that for 
 me ? Speak low, though, gentlemen both ; there comes 
 my father ; you had better give me the letter again. 
 Well, father, whence this morning?" 
 
 " Eh, company here ? Young men, you are always 
 welcome, and such as you. Would there were more of 
 your sort in these dirty times. How is your good 
 mother, Frank, eh? Where have I been, Will? 
 Roimd the house- farm, to look at the beeves. That 
 sheeted heifer of Prowse^s is all wrong ; her coat stares 
 like a hedgepig's. Tell Jewell to go up and bring her 
 in before night. And then up the forty acres ; sprang 
 two coveys, and picked a leash out of them. The Irish 
 hawk flies as wild as any haggard still, and will never 
 make a bird. I had to hand her to Tom, and take the 
 little peregi'ine. Give me a Clovelly hawk against the 
 world, after all ; and — heigh ho, I am very hungry ! 
 Half-past twelve, and dinner not served ? What^ Master 
 Amyas, spoiling your appetite with strong ale ? Better 
 have tried sack, lad ; have some now with me.'' 
 
 And the worthy old gentleman, having finished his 
 oration, settled himself on a great bench inside the 
 chimney, and put his hawk on a perch over his head, 
 while his cockers coiled themselves up close to the warm 
 peat-ashes, and his son set to work to pull off his father's 
 boots, amid sundry warnings to take care of his corns. 
 
 " Come, Master Amyas, a pint of white wine and 
 sugar, and a bit of a shoeing-horn to it ere we dine. 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 159 
 
 Some pickled prawns, now, or a rasher off the coals, to 
 whet jou?" 
 
 " Thank you," quoth Amyas ; "^but I have drank a 
 mort of outlandish liquors, better and worse, in the 
 last three years, and yet never found aught to come up 
 to good ale, which needs shoeing-honi neither before 
 nor after, but takes care of itself, and of all honest 
 stomachs too, I think." 
 
 "Tou speak like a book, boy," said old Cary ; '^ and 
 after all, what a plague comes of these newfangled hot 
 wines, and aqua vitses, which have come in since the 
 wars, but maddening of the brains, and fever of the 
 blood?" 
 
 " I fear we have not seen the end of that yet," said 
 Frank. " My friends write me from the Netherlands 
 that our men are falling into a swinish trick of swil- 
 ling like the Hollanders. Heaven grant that they may 
 not bring home the fashion with them." 
 
 " A man must drink, they say, or die of the ague, in 
 those vile swamps,^' said Amyas. " When they get 
 home here, they will not need it." 
 
 " Heaven grant it,^^ said Frank ; " I should be sorry 
 to see Devonshire a drunken county ; and there are 
 many of our men out there with Mr. Champernoun." 
 
 *' Ah," said Car}^, " there, as in Ireland, we are prov- 
 ing her Majesty's saying true, that Devonshire is her 
 right hand, and the yoimg children thereof like the 
 arrows in the hand of the giant." 
 
160 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 " They may well be," Scaid his son, '' when some 
 of them are giants themselves, like my tall school- 
 fellow opposite." 
 
 " He will be up and doing again presently, I'll war- 
 rant him ; " said old Gary. 
 
 " And that I shall,'^ quoth Amyas. " I have been 
 devising brave deeds ; and see in the distance en- 
 chanters to be bound, dragons choked, empires con- 
 quered, though not in Holland." 
 
 " You do?" asked Will, a little sharply; for he had 
 had a half suspicion that more was meant than met 
 the ear. 
 
 " Yes," said Amyas, turning off his jest again, " I go 
 to what Kaleigh calls the Land of the Nymphs. Another 
 month, I hope, will see me abroad, in Ireland." 
 
 "Abroad? Call it rather at home," said old Gary; 
 " for it is full of Devon men from end to end, and you 
 will be among friends all day long. George Bourchier 
 from Tawstock has the army now in Munster, and 
 Warham St. Leger is Marshal ; George Carew is with 
 Lord Grey of Wilton, (poor Peter Garew was killed at 
 Glendalough ; ) and after the defeat last year, when 
 that villain Desmond cut off Herbert and Price, the 
 companies were made up with six hundred Devon men, 
 and Artliur Fortescue at their head ; so that the old 
 county holds her head as proudly in the Land of Ire 
 as she does in the Low Gountries and the Spanish 
 main." 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. ICl 
 
 '' And where," asked Amyas, " is Davils of Marsland, 
 who used to teach me how to catch trout, when I was 
 staying down at Stow? He is in Ireland, too, is he 
 not?" 
 
 " Ah, my lad," said Mr. Gary, " that is a sad story. 
 I thouQ-ht all England had known it." 
 
 '■ You forget, Sir, 1 am a stranger. Surely he is not 
 dead?" * 
 
 " Murdered foully, lad ! Murdered like a dog, and 
 by the man whom he had treated as his son, and who 
 pretended, the false knave! to call him father." 
 
 '• His blood is avenged?" said Amy as fiercely. 
 
 " No, by heaven, not yet ! Stay, don't cry out 
 again. I am getting old — I must tell my story my own 
 way. It was last July, — was it not. Will? — Over 
 comes to Ireland Saunders, one of those Jesuit foxes, 
 as the Pope's legate, with money and bulls, and a 
 banner hallowed by the Pope, and the devil knows what 
 beside ; and with him James Fitzmaurice, the same 
 fellow who had sworn on his knees to Perrott, in the 
 church at Kilmallock, to be a true liegeman to Queen 
 Elizabeth, and conlirmed it by all his saints, and such 
 a world of his Irish howling, that Perrott told me he 
 was fain to stop his own ears. Well, he had been prac- 
 tising with the King of France, but got nothing but 
 laughter for his pains, and so went over to the Most 
 Catholic King, and promises him to join Ireland to 
 Spain, and set up popery again, and what not. And 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
162 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 he, I suppose, tliinking it better that Ireland should 
 belong to him than to the Pope's bastard, fits him 
 out, and sends him off on such another errand as 
 Stukely's, — though I will say, for the honour of Devon, 
 if Stukely lived like a fool, he died like an honest 
 man." 
 
 " Sir Thomas Stukely dead too?" said Amyas. 
 
 " Wffft a while, lad, and you shall have that tragedy 
 afterwards. Well, where was I ? Oh, Fitzmaurice and 
 the Jesuits land at Smerwick, with three ships, choose 
 a place for a fort, bless it with their holy water, and 
 their moppings and their scourings, and the rest of it, to 
 j)urify it from the stain of heretic dominion ; but in the 
 meanwhile, one of the Comienays, — a Com'tenay of 
 Haccombe, was it ? — or a Courtenay of Boconnock ? 
 Silence, Will, I shall have it in a minute — yes, a Courte- 
 nay of Haccombe it was, lying at anchor near by, in a 
 ship of war of his, cuts out the three ships, and cuts off 
 the Dons from the sea. John and James Desmond, 
 with some small rabble, go over to the Spaniards. Earl 
 Desmond will not join them, but will not fight them, 
 and stands by to take the winning side ; and then in 
 comes poor Davils, sent down by the Lord Deputy to 
 charge Desmond and his brothers, in the Queen's name, 
 to assault the Spaniards. Folks say it was rash of his 
 Lordship : but I say, what could be better done ? 
 Everyone knows that there never was a stouter or 
 shrewder soldier than Davils ; and the young Desmonds, 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 163 
 
 I have heard him say many a time, used to look on 
 him as their father. But he found out what it was 
 to trust Englishmen tm*ned Irish. Well, the Des- 
 monds fomid out on a sudden that the Dons were 
 such desperate Paladins, that it was madness to 
 meddle, though they were five to one ; and poor 
 Davils, seeing that there was no fight in them, goes 
 back for help, and sleeps that night at some place called 
 Tralee. Arthur Carter of Bideford, St. Leger's lieute- 
 nant, as stout an old soldier as Davils himself, sleeps in 
 the same bed with him ; the lacquey-boy, who is noAv 
 with Sir Richard at Stow, on the floor at their feet. 
 But in the dead of night, who should come in but James 
 Desmond, sword in hand, with a dozen of his ruffians 
 at his heels, each with his glib over his ugly face, and 
 his skene in his hand. Davils springs up in bed, and 
 asks but this, ' A'\^at is the matter, my son?' whereon 
 the treacherous villain, without giving him time to say 
 a prayer, strikes at him, naked as he was, crying, 
 ' Thou shalt be my father no longer, nor I thy son I 
 Thou shalt die!' and at that all the rest fall on him. 
 The poor little lad (so he says) leaps up to cover his 
 master with his naked body, gets three or four stabs 
 of skenes, and so falls for dead ; with his master and 
 Captain Carter, who were dead indeed — God reward 
 them ! After that the ruffians ransacked tlie house, till 
 they had murdered every Englishman in it, the lacquey- 
 boy only excepted, who crawled out, woimded as he 
 
 m2 
 
164 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 was, tlirougli a window; Avhile Desmond, if you will 
 believe it, went back, up to his elbows in blood, and 
 vaunted his deeds to the Spaniards, and asked them — 
 ' There! Will you take that as a pledge that I am 
 faithful to you?' And that, my lad, was the end of 
 Henry Davils, and will be of all who trust to the faith 
 of wild savages." 
 
 " I would go a hundred miles to see that Desmond 
 hanged!" said Amyas, while great tears ran down his 
 face. " Poor Mr. Davils ! And now, what is the story 
 of Sir Thomas?" 
 
 " Yom- brother must tell you that, lad ; I am some- 
 what out of breath." 
 
 " And I have a right to tell it," said Frank, with a 
 smile. " Do you know that I was very near being Earl 
 of the bog of Allen, and one of the peers of the realm 
 to King Buoncompagna, son and heir to his Holiness 
 Pope Gregory the Thirteenth?" 
 
 "No, surely!" 
 
 " As I am a gentleman. When I was at Kome I saw 
 poor Stukely often ; and this and more he offered me 
 on the part (as he said) of the Pope, if I would just 
 oblige him in the two little matters of being reconciled 
 to the Catholic Chm-ch, and joining the invasion of 
 Ireland." 
 
 " Poor deluded heretic," said Will Gary, " to have 
 lost an earldom for your family by such silly scruples 
 of loyalty!" 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 165 
 
 "It is not a matter for jesting, after all : " said Frank ; 
 " but I saw Sir Thomas often, and I cannot believe he 
 was in his senses, so frantic was his vanity and his 
 ambition; and all the while, in private matters as 
 honourable a gentleman as ever. However, he sailed 
 at last for Ireland, with his eight hundred Spaniards 
 and Italians ; and what is more, I know that the King of 
 Spain paid their charges. Marquis Yinola — James Buon- 
 compagna, that is — stayed quietly at Rome, preferring 
 that Stukely should conquer his paternal heritage of 
 Ireland for him, while he took care of the bona rohas 
 at home. I went down to Civita Vecchia to see him off, 
 and though his younger by many years, I could not but 
 take the liberty of entreating him, as a gentleman and 
 a man of Devon, to consider his faith to his Queen and 
 the honour of his country. There were high words 
 between us ; God forgive me if I spoke too fiercely, for 
 I never saw him a2:ain." 
 
 o 
 
 "Too fiercely to an open traitor, Frank? Why not 
 have ran him through ?" 
 
 " Nay, I had no clean life for Sundays, Amy as ; so I 
 could not throw away my week-day one; and as for the 
 weal of England, I knew that it was little he would 
 damage it, and told him so. And at that he waxed utterly 
 mad, for it touched his pride, and swore that if the wind 
 had not been fair for sailing, he would have fought me 
 there and then ; to which I could only answer, tliat I 
 was ready to meet him when he would ; and he parted 
 
166 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 from me, saying, ' It is a pity, Sir, I cannot fight you 
 now ; when next we meet, it will be beneath my dignity 
 to measure swords "^"ith you.' " 
 
 " I suppose he expected to come back a prince at 
 least — Heaven knows ; I owe him no ill-will, nor 
 I hope does any man. He has paid all debts now in 
 full, and got his receipt for them." 
 
 '' How did he die, then, after all?" 
 
 '' On his voyage he touched in Portugal. King 
 Sebastian was just sailing for Africa with his new ally, 
 Mohammed the Prince of Fez, to help King Abdallah, 
 and conquer what he could. He persuaded Stukely to 
 go with him. There were those who thought that he, 
 as well as the Spaniards, had no stomach for seeing the 
 Pope^s son king of Ireland. Others used to say that he 
 thought an island too small for his ambition, and must 
 needs conquer a continent — I know not why it was, but 
 he went. They had heavy weather in the passage, and 
 when they landed, many of their soldiers were sea-sick. 
 Stukely, reasonably enough, counselled that they should 
 wait two or three days and recruit : but Don Sebastian 
 was so mad for the assault, that he must needs have his 
 veni, vid{,vici ; and so ended with a veni, vi'di,2^^^'ii > ^oi' 
 he, Abdallah, and his son Mohammed, all perished in 
 the first battle at Alcasar ; and Stukely, surrounded and 
 overpowered, fought till he could fight no more, and 
 then died like a hero with all his wounds in front ; and 
 may God have mercy on his soul!' 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 167 
 
 " Ah !^' said Amyas, '' we heard of that battle off 
 Lima, but nothing about poor Stukely." 
 
 " That List was a Popish prayer, Master Frank," 
 said old Mr. Cary. 
 
 " Most worshipful Sir, you surely would not wish 
 God not to have mercy on his soul?" 
 
 " No— Eh? Of course not ; but that's all settled by 
 now, for he is dead, poor fellow." 
 
 " Certainly, my dear Sir. And you cannot help being 
 a little fond of him still." 
 
 "Eh? why, I should be a brute if I were not. He 
 and I were school-fellows, though he was somewhat the 
 younger ; and many a good thrashing have I given him, 
 and one cannot help having a tenderness for a man 
 after that. Beside, we used to hunt together in Exmoor, 
 and have royal nights afterward into Ilfracombe, when 
 we were a couple of mad young blades. Fond of him ? 
 Why I would have sooner given my forefinger than that 
 he should have gone to the dogs thus." 
 
 " Then, my dear Sir, if you feel for him still, in spite 
 of all his faults, how do you know that God may not 
 feel for him still, in spite of all his faults ? For my 
 part," quoth Frank in his fanciful way, " without be- 
 lieving in that Popish Purgatory, I cannot help holding 
 with Plato, that such heroical souls, who have wanted 
 but little of true greatness, are hereafter by some strait 
 discipline brought to a better mind ; perhaps, as many 
 ancients have held with the Indian Gymnosophists, 
 
168 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 by transmigration into the bodies of those animals 
 whom they have resembled in their passions; and 
 indeed, if Sir John Stukely's soul should now ani- 
 mate the body of a lion, all I can say is that he 
 would both be a very valiant and royal lion; and 
 also doubtless become in due time heartily ashamed 
 and penitent for having been nothing better than a 
 lion." 
 
 " What now, Master Frank ? I don't trouble my 
 head with such matters — I say Stukely was a right 
 good-hearted fellow at bottom ; and if you plague my 
 head with any of your dialectics, and propositions, and 
 college quibs and quiddities, you shan't have any more 
 sack, Sir ! But here come the knaves, and I hear the 
 cook knock to dinner." 
 
 After a madrigal or two, and an Italian song of 
 Master Frank's, all which went sweetly enough, the 
 ladies rose, and went. Whereon Will Gary, drawing 
 his chair close to Frank's, put quietly into his hand a 
 dirty letter. 
 
 " This was the letter left for me," whispered he, " by 
 a country fellow this morning. Look at it, and tell 
 me what I am to do." 
 
 Whereon Frank opened, and read — 
 
 " Mister Gary, be you wary 
 
 By deer park end to-night. 
 
 Yf Irish fiFoxe com out of rocks 
 
 Grip and hold hym tight." 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 169 
 
 " I would have showed it my father," said Will, 
 " but—" 
 
 " I verily believe it to be a blind. See now, this is 
 the handwriting of a man who has been trying to write 
 vilely, and yet cannot. Look at that B, and that G, 
 their formcB formativce never were begotten in a hedge- 
 school. And what is more, this is no Devon man's 
 handiwork. We say 'to,' and not 'by,' Will, eh? in 
 the West country ?" 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 " And ' man,' instead of ' him' ?" 
 
 " True, Daniel ! But am I to do nothing therefore ?" 
 
 " On that matter I am no judge. Let us ask much- 
 endm-ing Ulysses here ; perhaps he has not sailed round 
 the world without bringing home a de\^ce or two." 
 
 Whereon Amyas was called to counsel, as soon as 
 Mr. Gary could be stopped in a long cross-examination 
 of him as to Mr. Doughty' s famous trial and execution. 
 
 Amyas pondered awhile, thrusting his hands into his 
 long curls ; and then — 
 
 " Will, my lad, have you been watching at the Deer 
 Park End of late?" 
 
 " Never." 
 
 " Where, then ?" 
 
 " At the town-beach." 
 
 '' Where else ?" 
 
 "At the town-head." 
 
 "Where else?" 
 
170 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 " Wliy, the fellow is turned lawyer ! Above Fresh- 
 water." 
 
 " Where is Freshwater ?" 
 
 " AVhy, where the waterfall conies over the cliff, half- 
 a-mile from the town. There is a path there up into 
 the forest." 
 
 " I know. Ill watch there to-night. Do you keep 
 all your old haunts safe, of course, and send a couple of 
 stout knaves to the mill, to watch the beach at the Deer 
 Park End, on the chance ; for your poet may be a true 
 man, after all. But my heart's faith is, that this comes 
 just to draw you off from some old beat of yours, upon a 
 wild-goose chase. If they shoot the miller by mistake, 
 I suppose it don't much matter?" 
 
 " Marry, no. 
 
 ' When a miller's knock'd on the head, 
 The less of flour makes the more of bread.' " 
 
 *' Or, again," chimed in old Mr. Gary, " as they say 
 in the North — 
 
 * Find a miller that will not steal, 
 Or a Webster that is leal, 
 Or a priest that is not greedy, 
 And lay them three a dead coi'pse by ; 
 And by the virtue of them three, 
 The said dead corpse shall quicken'd be.' 
 
 " But why are you so ready to watch Freshwater 
 to-night. Master Amyas ?" 
 
 " Because, Sir, those who come, if they come, will 
 never land at Mouthmill ; if they are sti-angers, they 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 171 
 
 dare not ; and if they are bay's-men, tliey are too wise, 
 as long as the westerly swell sets in. As for landing at 
 the town, that would be too great a risk ; but Fresh- 
 water is as lonely as the Bermudas ; and they can beach 
 a boat up under the cliff at all tides, and in all weathers, 
 except north and nor' west. I have done it many a time, 
 when I was a boy." 
 
 " And give us the fruit of your experience now in 
 your old age, eh ? Well, you have a grey head on 
 green shoulders, my lad ; and I verily believe you are 
 right. Who will you take with you to watch ?" 
 
 " Sir," said Frank, " I Tsdll go v/ith my brother ; and 
 that will be enough." 
 
 " Enough ? He is big enough, and you brave enough, 
 for ten ; but still, the more the merrier." 
 
 " But the fewer, the better fare. If I might ask a first 
 and last favour, worshipful Sir," said Frank very 
 earnestly, " you would gi'ant me two things ; that you 
 would let none go to Freshwater but me and my bro- 
 ther; and that whatsoever we shall bring you back, 
 shall be kept as secret as the commonweal and your 
 loyalty shall permit. I trust that we are not so unknown 
 to you, or to others, that you can doubt for a moment 
 but that whatsoever we may do will satisfy at once your 
 honour and our own." 
 
 " My dear yoimg gentleman, there is no need of so 
 many courtier's words. I am your father's friend, and 
 yours. And God forbid that a Gary — for I guess your 
 
172 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 drift — should ever wish to make a head or a heart ache ; 
 that is, more than — " 
 
 " Those of whom it is written, ' Though thou bray a 
 fool in a mortar, yet will not his folly depart from 
 him,' " interposed Frank, in so sad a tone that no one 
 at the table replied ; and few more words were ex- 
 changed, till the two brothers were safe outside the 
 house ; and then — 
 
 " Amyas," said Frank, " that was a Devon man's 
 handiwork, nevertheless ; it was Eustace's handwriting." 
 
 " Impossible!" 
 
 " No, lad. I have been secretary to a prince, and 
 learnt to interpret cipher, and to watch every pen- 
 stroke ; and, young as I am, I think that 1 am not easily 
 deceived. Would God I were ! Come on, lad ; and 
 strike no man hastily, lest thou cut off thine own 
 flesh." 
 
 So forth the two went, along the park to the east- 
 ward, and past the head of the little wood-embosomed 
 fishing-town, a steep stair of houses clinging to the cliff 
 far below them, the bright slate roofs and white walls 
 glittering in the moonlight ; and on some half-mile 
 further, along the steep hill-side, fenced with oak-wood 
 down to the water's edge, by a narrow forest path, 
 to a point where two glens meet and pom* their stream- 
 lets over a cascade some hundred feet in height 
 into the sea below. By the side of this waterfall 
 a narrow path climbs upward from the beach ; and 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 173 
 
 here it was that tlie two brothers expected to meet tlie 
 messenger. 
 
 Frank insisted on taking his station below Amyas. 
 He said that he was certain that Eustace himself would 
 make his appearance, and that he was more fit than 
 Amyas to bring him to reason bj parley ; that if Amyas 
 would keep watch some twenty yards above, the escape 
 of the messenger would be impossible. Moreover, he 
 was the elder brother, and the post of honour was his 
 right. So Amyas obeyed him, after making him pro- 
 mise that if more than one man came up the path, he 
 would let them pass him before he challenged, so that 
 both might bring them to bay at the same time. 
 
 So Amyas took his station under a high marl bank, 
 and, bedded in luxuriant crown-ferns, "^kept his eye 
 steadily on Frank, who sat down on a little knoll of 
 rock (where is now a garden on the cliiF-edge) which 
 parts the path and the dark chasm down which the 
 stream rushes to its final leap over the cliff. 
 
 There Amyas sat a full half-hour, and glanced at 
 whiles from Frank to look upon the scene aroimd. Out- 
 side the south-west wind blew fresh and strong, and the 
 moonlight danced upon a thousand crests of foam ; but 
 within the black jagged point which sheltered the town, 
 the sea did but heave, in long oily swells of rolling silver, 
 onward into the black shadow of the hills, within whicli 
 the town and pier lay invisible, save where a twinkling 
 light gave token of some lonely fisher's wife, watching 
 
174 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 the weary night through for the boat which would 
 return with dawn. Here and there upon the sea, a 
 "black speck marked a hen*ing-boat, drifting with its line 
 of nets ; and right off the mouth of the glen, Amyas 
 saw, with a beating heart, a large two-masted vessel 
 lying-to — that must be the "Portugal!" Eagerly he 
 looked up the glen, and listened ; but he heard nothing 
 but the sweeping of the wind across the downs five 
 hundred feet above, and the sough of the waterfall upon 
 the rocks below; he saw nothing but the vast black 
 sheets of oak-wood sloping up to the narrow blue sky 
 above,, and the broad bright hunter's moon, and the 
 woodcocks, which, chuckling to each other, hawked to 
 and fro, like swallows, between the tree-tops and the 
 sky. 
 
 At last he heard a rustle of the fallen leaves; he 
 shrank closer and closer into the darkness of the bank. 
 Then swift light steps — not do^\Ti the path, from above, 
 but upward, from below; his heart beat quick and loud. 
 And in another half minute a man came in sight, within 
 three yards of Frank's hiding place. 
 
 Frank sprang out instantly. Amyas saw his bright 
 blade glance in the clear October moonlight. 
 " " Stand, in the Queen's name!" 
 
 The man drew a pistol from under his cloak, and 
 fired full in his face. Had it happened in tliese days 
 of detonators, Frank's chance had been small ; but to 
 get a ponderous wheel-lock imder weigh was a longer 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 17 O 
 
 business, and before the fizzing of the flint had ceased, 
 Frank had struck up the pistol with his rapier, and it 
 exploded harmlessly over his head. The man instantly 
 dashed the weapon in his face, and closed. 
 
 The blow, luckily, did not take effect on that delicate 
 forehead, but struck him in the shoulder : nevertheless, 
 Frank, who with all his grace and agility was as fragile 
 as a lily, and a very bubble of the earth, staggered, and 
 lost his guard, and before he could recover himself. 
 Amy as saw a dagger gleam, and one, two, three blows 
 fiercely repeated. 
 
 Mad with fury, he was with them in an instant. 
 They were scuffling together so closely in the shade that 
 he was afraid to use his sword point ; but with the hilt 
 he dealt a single blow full on the ruffian's cheek. It 
 was enough ; with a hideous shriek, the fellow rolled 
 over at his feet, and Amyas set his foot on him, in act 
 to run him through. 
 
 " Stop! stay!" almost screamed Frank; " it is Eu- 
 stace ! om- cousin Eustace!" and he leant against a 
 tree. 
 
 Amyas sprang towards him : but Frank waved him off". 
 
 "It is nothing — a scratch. He has papers : I am 
 sure of it. Take them ; and for God's sake let him go !" 
 
 " Villain! give me yom* papers!" cried Amyas, set- 
 ting his foot once more on the writhing Eustace, whose 
 jaw was broken across. 
 
 " You struck me foully from behind," moaned he, 
 
176 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 liis vanity and envy even then coming out, in that faint 
 and foolish attempt to prove Amyas not so very much 
 better a man. 
 
 " Hound, do you think that I dare not strike you in 
 front? Give me your papers, letters, whatever Popish 
 devilry you carry, or as I live, I will cut off your head, 
 and take them myself, even if it cost me the shame of 
 stripping your corpse. Give them up ! Traitor, mur- 
 derer ! give them, I say!" And setting his foot on 
 him afresh, he raised his sword. 
 
 Eustace was usually no craven : but he was cowed. 
 Between agony and shame, he had no heart to resist. 
 Martyrdom, which looked so splendid when consum- 
 mated selon les regies on Tower Hill or Tyburn, before 
 pitying, or (still better) scoffing multitudes, looked a 
 confused, dirty, ugly business there in the dark forest ; 
 and as he lay, a stream of moonlight bathed his mighty 
 cousin's broad clear forehead, and his long golden locks, 
 and his white terrible blade, till he seemed, to Eustace's 
 superstitious eye, like one of those fair young St. Mi- 
 chaels trampling on the fiend, wliich he had seen abroad 
 in old German pictures. He shuddered ; pulled a packet 
 from his bosom, and threw it from him, mui-mm'ing, 
 " I have not given it." 
 
 " Swear to me that these are all the papers which you 
 have, in cipher or out of cipher. Swear on your soul, 
 or you die !" 
 
 Eustace swore. 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 177 
 
 '* Tell mc, wlio are your accomplices?" 
 
 "Never!" said Eustace. "Cruel! have you not 
 degraded me enough already?" and the wretched young 
 man burst into tears, and hid his bleeding face in his 
 hands. 
 
 One hint of honour made Amyas as gentle as a lamb. 
 He lifted Eustace up, and bade him run for his life. 
 
 " I am to owe my life, then, to you?" 
 
 " Not in the least ; only to your being a Leigh. Go, 
 or it will be worse for you ! " And Eustace went ; while 
 Amyas, catching up the precious packet, hurried to 
 Frank. He had fainted already, and his brother had to 
 carry him as far as the park, before he could find any 
 of the other watchers. The blind, as far as they were 
 concerned, was complete. They had heard and seen 
 nothing. TVTiosoever had brought the packet had 
 landed they knew not where ; and so all returned to the 
 Court, carrying Frank, who recovered gi*adually, having 
 rather bruises than wounds ; for his foe had struck 
 wildly, and with a trembling hand. 
 
 Half an hour after, Amyas, Mr. Gary, and his son 
 George were in deep consultation over the following 
 Papistic, the only paper in the packet which was not in 
 cipher : — 
 
 " ^ Deak Brother N. S. in CVf et Ecdesia. 
 
 " This is to inform you, and the friends of the 
 cause, that S. Josephus has landed in Smerwick, with 
 VOL. I. N 
 
178 CLOVELLT COURT 
 
 eight hundred valiant Crusaders, burning with holy zeal 
 to imitate last year's martyrs of Carrigfolium, and to 
 expiate their offences (which I fear may have been many) 
 by the propagation of our most holy faith. I have puri- 
 fied the fort (which they are strenuously rebuilding) 
 with prayer and holy water, from the stain of heretical 
 footsteps, and consecrated it afresh to the service of 
 Heaven, as the first-fruits of the isle of saints ; and 
 having displayed the consecrated banner to the adora- 
 tion of the faithful, have retm-ned to Earl Desmond, 
 that I may establish his faith, weak as yet, by reason 
 of the allurements of this world : though since, by the 
 valour of his brother James, he that hindered was taken 
 out of the way, (I mean Da\'ils the heretic, sacrifice well- 
 pleasing in the eyes of Heaven !) the young man has 
 lent a more obedient ear to my counsels. If you can 
 do anything, do it quickly, for a great door and effectual 
 is opened, and there are many adversaries. But be 
 swift, for so do the poor lambs of the Church ti'emble 
 at the fury of the heretics, that a hundred will flee 
 before one Englishman. And indeed, were it not for 
 that divine charity toward the Church (which covers 
 the multitude of sins) with which they are resplendent, 
 neither they nor their country would be, by the carnal 
 judgment, counted worthy of so great labom- in their 
 behalf. For they themselves are given much to lying, 
 theft, and drunkenness, vain babbling, and profane 
 dancing and singing ; and are still, as S. Gildas reports 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 179 
 
 of them, ' rnore careful to shroud their villaiious faces 
 in bushy hair, than decently to cover their bodies ; "* 
 while their land, (by reason of the t}Tanny of their 
 chieftains, and the continual wars and plunderings 
 among their tribes, which leave them weak and divided, 
 an easy prey to the myrmidons of the excommunicate 
 and usurping Englishwoman,) lies utterly waste with fire, 
 and defaced with corpses of the starved and slain. But 
 what are these things, while the holy virtue of Catholic 
 obedience still flourishes in their hearts ? The Church 
 cares not for the conservation of body and goods, but of 
 immortal souls. 
 
 '' If any devout lady shall so will, you may obtain 
 from her liberality a shirt for this worthless tabernacle, 
 and also a pair of hose ; for I am unsavoury to myself 
 and to others, and of such luxuries none here has super- 
 fluity ; for all live in holy poverty, except the fleas, who 
 have that consolation in this world, for which this 
 unhappy nation, and those who labour among them, 
 must wait till the world to come.* 
 
 " Your loving Brother, 
 
 " N. S." 
 
 '* Sir Richard must know of this before day-break," 
 cried old Cary. " Eight hundred men landed ! We 
 must call out the Posse Comitatus, and sail with them 
 
 * See Note at end of Chapter. 
 
 n2 
 
180 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 bodily. I will go myself, old as I am. Spaniards in 
 Ireland? not a dog of them must go home again."' 
 
 "Not a dog of them," answered Will ; "but where 
 is Mr. Winter and his squadron? " 
 
 " Safe in Milford Haven ; a messenger must be sent 
 to him too." 
 
 "I'll go/' said Amy as : " but Mr. Gary is right. Sir 
 Richard must know all first." 
 
 " And we must have those Jesuits." 
 
 « What ? Mr. Evans and Mr. Morgan ? God help us— 
 they are at my uncle's! Gonsider the honour of our 
 family!" 
 
 " Judge for yourself, my dear boy," said old Mr. Gary, 
 gently : " wo aid it not be rank treason to let these foxes 
 escape, while we have this damning proof against them ?" 
 
 " I will go myself then." 
 
 "Why not? You may keep all straight, and Will 
 shall go with you. Gall a groom, Will, and get your 
 horse saddled, and my Yorkshire grey; he will make 
 better play with this big fellow on his back, than the 
 little pony astride of which Mr. Leigh came walking in 
 (as I hear) this morning. As for Frank the ladies 
 will see to him well enough, and glad enough, too, to 
 have so fine a bird in their cage for a week or two." 
 
 " And my mother?" 
 
 " We'll send to her to-morrow by day-break. Gome, 
 a stirrup cup to start with, hot and hot. Now, boots, 
 cloaks, swords, a deep pull and a warm one, and away!" 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 181 
 
 And the jolly old man bustled them out of the house 
 and into their saddles, under the broad bright winter's 
 moon. 
 
 " You must make your pace, lads, or the moon will 
 be down before you are over the moors." And so away 
 they went. 
 
 Neither of them spoke for many a mile. Amyas, 
 because his mind was fixed firmly on the one object of 
 saving the honour of his house ; and Will, because he 
 was hesitating between Ireland and the wars, and Rose 
 Salterne and love-making. At last he spoke suddenly. 
 
 *' I'll go, Amyas." 
 
 "Wliither?" 
 
 " To Ireland with you, old man. I have dragged 
 my anchor at last." 
 
 " What anchor, my lad of parables?" 
 
 " See, here am I, a tall and gallant ship." 
 
 " Modest, even if not true." 
 
 " Inclination, like an anchor, holds me tight. 
 
 " To the mud." 
 
 " Nay, to a bed of roses — not without their thorns." 
 
 '*Hillo? I have seen oysters grow on fruit-trees 
 before now, but never an anchor in a rose-garden." 
 
 " Silence, or my allegory will go to noggin-staves." 
 
 " Against the rocks of my flinty discernment." 
 
 " Pooh — well. Up comes duty like a jolly breeze, 
 blowing dead from the north-east, and as bitter and 
 cross as' a north-easter too, and tugs me away toward 
 
182 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 Ireland. I hold on by the rose-bed — any ground in 
 a storm — till every strand is parted, and off I go, 
 westward ho ! to get my throat cut in a bog-hole with 
 Amyas Leigh." 
 
 "Earnest, Will?" 
 
 *' As I am a sinful man." 
 
 '' Well done, young hawk of the White Cliff!" 
 
 " I had rather have called it Gallantry Bower still, 
 though," said Will, punning on the double name of 
 the noble precipice which forms the highest point of the 
 deer park. 
 
 " Well, as long as you are on land, you know it is 
 Gallantry Bower still : but we always call it White Cliff 
 when you see it from the sea-board, as you and I shall 
 do, I hope, to-morrow evening.^^ 
 
 "What, so soon?" 
 
 " Dare we lose a day ? " 
 
 " I suppose not ; heigh-ho ! " 
 
 And they rode on again in silence, Amyas in the 
 meanwhile being not a little content (in spite of his 
 late self-renunciation) to find that one of his rivals at 
 least was going to raise the siege of the Eose garden 
 for a few months, and withdraw his forces to the coast 
 of Kerry. 
 
 As they went over Bursdon, Amyas pulled up sud- 
 denly. 
 
 " Did you not hear a horse's step on our left ? '' 
 
 *' On our left — coming up from Welsford moor ? Im- 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 183 
 
 possible at this time of night. It must have been a 
 stag, or a sownder of wild swine : or may be only an 
 old cow." 
 
 " It was the ring of iron, friend. Let iis stand and 
 watch." 
 
 Bursdon and Welsford were then, as now, a rolling 
 range of dreary moors, unbroken by tor or tree, or any- 
 thing save few and far between a world-old furze-bank 
 which marked the common rights of some distant cattle 
 farm, and crossed then, not as now, by a decent road, 
 but by a rough confused trackway, the remnant of 
 an old Koman road from Clovelly dikes to Laun- 
 ceston. To the left it trended down towards a lower 
 range of moors, which form the water-shed of the heads 
 of Torridge ; and thither the two young men peered 
 down over the expanse of bog and furze, which glittered 
 for miles beneath the moon, one sheet of fr-osted silver, 
 in the heavy autumn dew. 
 
 " If any of Eustace's party are trying to get home 
 from Freshwater, they might save a couple of miles by 
 coming across Welsford, instead of going by the main 
 track, as we have done.'^ So said Amyas, who though 
 (luckily for him) no " genius," was cunning as a 
 fox in all matters of tactic and practic, and would 
 have in these days proved his right to be considered 
 an intellectual person by being a thorough man of 
 business. 
 
 " If any of his party are mad, they'll try it, and be 
 
1S4 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 stogged till the clay of judgment. Tliere are bogs In 
 the bottom twenty feet deep. Plague on the fellow ! who- 
 ever he is, he has dodged us ! Look there ! " 
 
 It Avas too true. The unknown horseman had evi- 
 dently dismounted below, and led his horse up on the 
 other side of a long furze-dike ; till coming to the point 
 where it turned away again from his intended course, 
 he appeared against the sky, in tlie act of leading his 
 nag over a gap. 
 
 " Kide like the wind ! " and both youths galloped 
 across furze and heather at him ; but ere they were 
 within a hundred yards of him, he had leapt again on 
 his horse,, and was away far ahead. 
 
 " There is the dor to us, with a vengeance," cried 
 Gary, putting in the spurs. 
 
 " It is but a lad; we shall never catch him." 
 
 "I'll try, though; and do you lumber after as you 
 can, old heavysides ;" and Gary pushed forward. 
 
 Amyas lost sight of him for ten minutes, and then 
 came up wnth him dismounted, and feeling disconso- 
 lately at his horse's knees. 
 
 " Look for my head. It lies somewliere about among 
 the furze there ; and oh ! I am as full of needles as ever 
 was a pincushion." 
 
 " Are his knees broken ?" 
 
 " I daren't look. No, I believe not. Gome along, 
 and make the best of a bad matter. The fellow is a 
 mile ahead, and to the right, too." 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 185 
 
 " He is going for Moorwinstow, then ; but where is 
 my cousin?" 
 
 " Behind us, I dare say. We shall nab him at least." 
 
 " Gary, promise me that if we do, you will keep out 
 of sight, and let me manage him." 
 
 " My boy, I only want Evan Morgans and Morgan 
 Evans. He is but the cat's-paw, and we are after the 
 cats themselves." 
 
 And so they Avent on other dreary six miles, till the 
 land ti'ended downwards, showing dark glens and masses 
 of woodland far below. 
 
 " Now, then, straight to Chapel, and stop the foxes' 
 earth ? Or through the King's park to Stow, and get out 
 Sir Richard's hounds, hue and cry, and Queen's warrant 
 in proper form?" 
 
 " Let us see Sir Richard first; and whatsoever he de- 
 cides about my uncle, I will endure as a loyal subject 
 must.'' 
 
 So they rode through the King's park, while Sir 
 Richard's colts came whinnying and staring round the 
 intruders, and down through a rich woodland lane five 
 hundred feet into the valley, till they could hear the 
 brawling of the little trout-stream, and beyond, the ever- 
 lasting thunder of the ocean surf. 
 
 Down through warm woods, all fragi-ant with dying 
 autumn flowers, leaving far above the keen Atlantic 
 breeze, into one of those delicious western Combes, and 
 so past the mill, and the little knot of flower-clad cottages. 
 
186 CLOYELLY COURT 
 
 In the window of one of them a light was still burning. 
 The two young men knew well whose window that was ; 
 and both hearts beat fast ; for Eose Salterne slept, or 
 rather seemed to wake, in that chamber. 
 
 " Folks are late in Combe to-night," said Amy as as 
 carelessly as he could. 
 
 Gary looked earnestly at the window, and then 
 sharply enough at Amyas ; but Amyas was busy set- 
 tling his stirrup ; and Gary rode on, unconscious that 
 every fibre in his companion's huge frame was trembling 
 like his own. 
 
 " Muggy and close down here," said Amyas, who in 
 reality was quite faint with his own inward struggles. 
 
 "We shall be at Stow gate in five minutes," said 
 Gary, looking back and down longingly as his horse 
 climbed the opposite hill ; but a turn of the zigzag road 
 hid the cottage, and the next thought was, how to effect 
 an entrance into Stow at three in the morning without 
 being eaten by the ban-dogs, who were already howling 
 and growling at the sound of the horsehoofs. 
 
 However, they got safely in, after much knocking and 
 calling, through the postern-gate in the high west Avail, 
 into a mansion, the description whereof I must defer to 
 the next chapter, seeing that the moon has already sunk 
 into the Atlantic, and there is darkness over land and sea. 
 
 Sir Richard, in his long gown, was soon downstairs 
 in the hall ; the letter read, and the story told ; but ere 
 it was half finished — 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 187 
 
 '' Anthony, call up a groom, and let him bring me a 
 horse round. Gentlemen, if you will excuse me five 
 minutes, I shall be at your service." 
 
 "You will not go alone, Richard?" asked Lady 
 Grenvile, putting her beautiful face in its nightcoif out 
 of an adjoining door. 
 
 " Surely, sweet chuck, we three are enough to take 
 two poor polecats of Jesuits. Go in, and help me to 
 boot and gird." 
 
 In half an hour they were down and up across the 
 valley again, under the few low ashes dipt flat by the 
 sea breeze which stood round the lonely gate of Chapel. 
 
 " Mr. Gary, there is a back path across the downs to 
 Marsland; go and guard that." Gary rode off; and Sir 
 Richard, as he knocked loudly at the gate — 
 
 " Mr. Leigh, you see that I have consulted your 
 honour, and that of your poor uncle, by adventuring 
 thus alone. "V\niat will you have me do now, which may 
 not be unfit for me and you?" 
 
 "Oh, Sir!" said Amyas, with tears in his honest 
 eyes, " you have shown yom-self once more what you 
 always have been, — my dear and beloved master on 
 earth, not second even to my admiral Sir Francis Drake." 
 
 " Or the Queen, I hope," said Grenvile smiling, " but 
 jfocas palahras. What will you do ?" 
 
 " My wretched cousin. Sir, may not have returned — 
 and if I might watch for him on the main road — unless 
 you want me with you." 
 
188 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 " Richard Grenvile can walk alone, lad. But what 
 will you do with your cousin?" 
 
 " Send him out of the country, never to return ; or if 
 he refuses, run liim through on the spot." 
 
 "Go, lad." And as he spoke, a sleepy voice asked 
 inside the gate, '' Who was there ?" 
 
 " Sir Richard Grenvile. Open, in the Queen's name ! " 
 
 " Sir Richard? He is in his bed, and be hanged to 
 you. 'No honest folk come at this hour of night." 
 
 " Amyas !" shouted Sir Richard. Amyas rode back. 
 
 " Bui'st that gate for me, while I hold your horse." 
 
 Amyas leaped down, took up a rock from the road- 
 side, such as Homer's heroes used to send at each other's 
 heads, and in an instant the door was flat on the ground, 
 and the ser\4ng man on his back inside, while Sir 
 Richard quietly entering over it, like Una into the hut, 
 told the fellow to get up and hold his horse for him 
 (which the clod, who knew well enough that terrible 
 voice, did without further murmms), and then strode 
 straight to the front door. It was already open. 
 The household had been up and about all along, or the 
 noise at the entry had aroused them. 
 
 Sir Richard knocked, however, at the open door ; and, 
 to his astonishment, his knock was answered by Mr. 
 Leigh himself, fully dressed, and candle in hand. 
 
 " Sir Richard Grenvile ! What, Sir ! is this neigh- 
 bourly, not to say gentle, to break into my house in the 
 dead of night?" 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 189 
 
 " I broke your outer door, Sir, because I was refused 
 entrance when I asked in the Queen's name. I knocked 
 at your inner one ; as I should have knocked at the poorest 
 cottager's in the parish, because I found it open. You 
 have two Jesuits here, Sir! and here is the Queen's 
 warrant for apprehending them. I have signed it witli 
 my own hand, and, moreover, servx it now with my 
 own hand, in order to save you scandal — and it may be, 
 worse. I must have these men, Mr. Leigh." 
 
 " My dear Sir Eichard ! " 
 
 " I must have them, or I must search the house ; and 
 you would not put either yom-self or me to so shameful 
 a necessity?" 
 
 " My dear Sir Eichard ! " 
 
 " Must I, then, ask you to stand back from your own 
 doorvN^ay, my dear Sir?" said Gren^-ile. And then chang- 
 ing his voice to that fearful lion's roar, for which he was 
 famous, and which it seemed impossible that lips so 
 delicate could utter, he thundered, " Knaves behind 
 there ! Back !" 
 
 This was spoken to half-a-dozen grooms and serving 
 men, who, well armed, were clustered in the passage. 
 
 "^^Hiat? swords out, you sons of cliff rabbits?" 
 And in a moment, Sir Eichard' s long blade flashed out 
 also, and putting Mr. Leigh gently aside, as if he had 
 been a child, he walked up to the party, who vanished 
 right and left ; ha\'ing expected a cm- dog, in the shape 
 of a parish constable, and come upon a lion instead. 
 
190 CLOVELLY COURT 
 
 They were stout fellows enougli, no doubt, in a fair 
 fight : but they had no stomach to be hanged in a row 
 at Launceston Castle, after a preliminary running 
 through the body by that redoubted admiral and most 
 unpeaceful justice of the peace. 
 
 " And now, my dear Mr. Leigh," said Sir Richard, 
 as blandly as ever, " where are my men? The night is 
 cold ; and you, as well as I, need to be in our beds." 
 
 " The men. Sir Eichard — the Jesuits — they are not 
 here, indeed." 
 
 "Not here. Sir?" 
 
 " On the word of a gentleman, they left my house an 
 hour ago. Believe me. Sir, they did. I will swear to 
 you, if you need." 
 
 " I believe Mr. Leigh of Chapel's word without oaths. 
 Whither are they gone?" 
 
 " Xay, Sir — how can I tell? they are — they are, as I 
 may say, fled. Sir ; escaped." 
 
 " With your connivance ; at least with yom* son's. 
 Where are they gone?" 
 
 " As I live, I do not know." 
 
 "Mr. Leigh — is this possible? Can you add un- 
 truth to that treason from the punishment of which I 
 am tiying to shield you?" 
 
 Poor Mr. Leigh bm'st into tears. 
 
 " Oh ! my God ! my God ! is it come to this ? Over 
 and above having the fear and anxiety of keeping these 
 black rascals in my house, and having to stop their 
 
IN THE OLDEN TIME. 101 
 
 villanous mouths every minute, for fear tliey should 
 hang me and themselves, I am to be called a traitor and 
 a liar in my old age, and that, too, by Eichard Grenvile I 
 Would God I had never been bom ! Would God I had no 
 soul to be saved, and I'd just go and drown care in drink, 
 and let the Queen and the Pope fight it out their own 
 way !" And the poor old man sank down into a chair, and 
 covered his fajce with his hands, and then leaped up again. 
 " Bless my heart ! Excuse me. Sir Eichard — to sit 
 down and leave you standing. 'Slife, Sir, sorrow is 
 making a hawbuck of me. Sit down, my dear Sir! 
 my worshipful Sir ! or rather, come with me into my 
 room, and hear a poor wretched man's story, for I swear 
 before God the men are fled ; and my poor boy Eustace 
 is not home either ; and the groom tells me that his 
 devil of a cousin has broken his jaw for him ; and his 
 mother is all but mad this hour past. Good lack ! good 
 lack!" 
 
 " He nearly murdered his angel of a cousin, Sir !" 
 said Sir Eichard severely. 
 
 " What, Sir? They never told me." 
 " He had stabbed his cousin Frank three times, Sir, 
 before Amyas, who is as noble a lad as walks God's 
 earth, struck him down. And in defence of what, 
 forsooth, did he play the ruffian and the swashbuckler, 
 but to bring home to your house this letter, Sir, which 
 you shall hear at your leisure, the moment I have taken 
 order about your priests." And walking out of the house, 
 he went round and called to Gary to come to him. 
 
192 CLOVELLY COURT. 
 
 " The birds are flown, Will," whispered he. " There 
 is but one chance for us, and that is Marsland ]\Ioutli. 
 If they are trying to take boat there, yoii may be yet in 
 time. If they are gone inland, we can do nothing till 
 we raise the hue and cry to-morrow." 
 
 And Will galloped off over the downs toward 
 Marsland, while Sir Richard ceremoniously walked in 
 again, and professed himself ready and happy to have 
 the honour of an audience in Mr. Leigh's private 
 chamber. And as we know pretty well already what 
 was to be discussed therein, we had better go over to 
 Marsland Mouth, and, if possible, arrive there before 
 Will Gary ; seeing that he arrived hot and swearing, 
 half an hour too late. 
 
 ^ote. — I have shrunk somewhat from giving these and other sketches 
 (true and accurate as I believe them to be,) of Ireland during Elizabeth's 
 reign, when the tyranny and lawlessness of the feudal chiefs had re- 
 duced the island to such a state of weakness and barbarism, that it was 
 absolutely necessary for England either to crush the Xurman-Irish no- 
 bility, and organize some sort of law and order, oi" to leave Ireland au 
 easy prey to the Spaniai'ds, or any other nation which should go to war 
 with us. The work was done — clumsily rather than cruelly ; but wrongs 
 were inflicted, and avenged by fresh wrongs, and those by fresh again. 
 May the memory of them perish for ever ! It has been reserved for 
 this age, and for the liberal policy of this age, to see the last ebulli- 
 tions of Celtic excitability die out harmless and ashamed of itself, and 
 to find that the Irishman, when he is brought as a soldier under the 
 regenerative influence of law, discipline, self-respect, and loyalty, can 
 prove himself a worthy rival of the more stern Norse-Saxon warrior. 
 God grant that the military brotherhood between Irish and English, 
 which is the especial glory of the present war, may be the germ of a 
 brotherhood industrial, political, and hereafter, perhaps, religious also ; 
 and that not merely the corpses of heroes, but the feuds and wrongs 
 which have parted them for centuries, may lie buried, once and for 
 ever, in the noble graves of Alma and of Inkeiman. 
 
CHAPTER YI. 
 
 THE COOMBES OF THE FAR -WEST. 
 
 " Far, far, from hence 
 The Adriatic breaks in a warm bay 
 Among the green Illyrian hills, and there 
 The sunshine in the happy glens is fair. 
 And by the sea, and in the brakes 
 The grass is cool, the sea-side air 
 Buoyant and fresh, the mountain flowers 
 More virginal and sweet than ours." 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 And even such are those delightful glens, which cut 
 the high table land of the confines of Devon and 
 Cornwall, and opening each through its gorge of down 
 and rock, towards the boundless AVestern Ocean. Each 
 is like the other, and each is like no other English 
 scenery. Each has its iipright walls, inland of rich 
 oak-wood, nearer the sea of dark gi*een fui'ze, then of 
 smooth turf, then of wierd black cliffs which range out 
 right and left far into the deep sea, in castles, spires, and 
 wings of jagged iron-stone. Each has its narrow strip of 
 fertile meadow, its crystal ti'out-sti-eam winding across 
 VOL. I. 
 
194 THE COOMBES OF 
 
 and across from one hill-foot to the other ; its grey stone 
 mill, with the water sparkling and humming round the 
 dripping wheel ; its dark rock pools above the tide mark, 
 where the salmon-trout gather in from their Atlantic 
 wanderings, after each autumn flood ; its ridge of blown 
 sand, bright with golden trefoil and crimson lady's 
 finger ; its grey bank of polished pebbles, down which 
 the stream rattles toward the sea below. Each has its 
 black field of jagged shark's-tooth rock which paves the 
 cove from side to side, streaked with here and there a 
 pink line of shell sand, and laced with white foam from 
 the eternal surge, stretching in parallel lines out to the 
 westward, in strata set upright on edge, or tilted towards 
 each other at strange angles by primeval earthquakes ; — 
 such is the "]\Iouth" — as those coves are called; and 
 such the jaw of teeth which they , display, one rasp of 
 which would gi*ind abroad the timbers of the stoutest 
 ship. To landward, all richness, softness, and peace ; to 
 seaward, a waste and howling wilderness of rock and 
 roller, barren to the fisherman, and hopeless to the ship- 
 wrecked mariner. 
 
 In only one of these *' Mouths " is a landing for boats, 
 made possible by a long sea-wall of rock, which pro- 
 tects it from the rollers of the Atlantic ; and that Mouth 
 is Marsland, the abode of the White Witch, Lucy Pass- 
 more ; whither, as Sir Richard Grenvile rightly judged, 
 the Jesuits were gone. But before the Jesuits came, 
 two other persons were standing on that lonely beach. 
 
THE FAR WEST. 195 
 
 under the bright October moon, namely Rose Salterne and 
 the White Witch herself ; for Rose, fevered with curiosity 
 and superstition, and allured by the very wildness and 
 possible danger of the spell, had kept her appointment ; 
 and a few minutes before midnight, stood on the gi'ey 
 shingle beach with her counsellor. 
 
 *' You be safe enough here to-night. Miss. My old 
 man is snoring sound abed, and there's no other soul 
 ever sets foot here o' nights, except it be the mermaids 
 now and then. Goodness Father, whereas our boat "? It 
 ought to be up here on the pebbles." 
 
 Rose pointed to a strip of sand some forty yards 
 nearer the sea, where the boat lay. 
 
 " Oh, the lazy old villain ! he's been roimd the rocks 
 after pollock this evening, and never taken the trouble to 
 hale the boat up. I'll trounce him for it when I get 
 home. I only hope he's made her fast where she is, 
 that's all ! He's more plague to me than ever my 
 money wiU be. deary me ! " 
 
 And the good wife bustled down toward the boat, 
 with Rose behind her. 
 
 " Iss, 'tis fast, sure enough : and the oars aboard too ! 
 Well, I never ! Oh, the lazy thief, to leave they here 
 to be stole ! I'll just sit in the boat, dear, and watch 
 mun, while you go down to the say ; for you must be 
 all alone to yourself, you know, or you'll see nothing. 
 There's the looking-glass ; now go, and dip your head 
 three times, and mind you don't look to land or sea, 
 
 02 
 
196 THE COOMBES OF 
 
 "before you've said the words, and looked upon the glass. 
 Now, be quick, it's just upon midnight." 
 
 And she coiled herself up in the boat, while Hose 
 went faltering down the strip of sand, some twenty 
 yards further, and there slipping off her clothes, stood 
 shivering and trembling for a moment before she en- 
 tered the sea. 
 
 She was between two walls of rock : that on her left 
 hand, some twenty feet high, hid her in deepest shade ; 
 that on her right, though much lower, took the whole 
 blaze of the midnight moon. Great festoons of olive 
 and purple sea-weed hung from it, shading dark cracks 
 and crevices, fit haunts for all the goblins of the sea. 
 On her left hand, the peaks of the rock frowned down 
 ghastly black ; on her right hand, for aloft, the downs 
 slept bright and cold. 
 
 The breeze had died away; not even a roller broke 
 the perfect stillness of the cove. The gulls were all asleep 
 upon the ledges. Over all was a true autumn silence ; 
 a silence which may be heard. She stood awed, and 
 listened in hope of a sound which might tell her that 
 any living thing beside herself existed. 
 
 There was a faint ble.^.t, as of a new-born lamb, high 
 above her head ; she started and looked up. Then a wail 
 from the cliffs, as of a child in pain, answered by 
 another from the opposite rocks. They were but the 
 passing snipe, and the otter calling to her brood : but 
 to her they were mysterious, supernatural, goblins come 
 
THE FAR WEST. 197 
 
 to answer to her call. Nevertheless, they only quickened 
 her expectation ; and the witch had told her not to fear 
 them. If she performed the rite duly, nothing would 
 harm her : but she could hear the beating of her own 
 heart, as she stepped, mirror in hand, into the cold 
 water, waded hastily^ as far as she dare, and then stopped 
 aghast. 
 
 A ring of flame was round her waist ; every limb 
 was bathed in lambent light ; all the multitudinous life 
 of the autumn sea, stirred by her approach, had flashed 
 suddenly into glory; 
 
 " And around her the lamps of the sea nymphs. 
 Myriad fiery globes, swam heaving and panting, and rainbows, 
 Crimson and azure and emerald, were broken in star-showers, lighting 
 Far through the wine-dark depths of the crystal, the gardens of 
 
 Nereus, 
 Coral and sea-fan and taagle, the blooms and the palms of the ocean." 
 
 She could see every shell which crawled on the white 
 sand at her feet, every rock-fish which played in and 
 out of the crannies, and stared at her with its broad 
 bright eyes, while the great palmate oarweeds which 
 waved along the chasm, half seen in the glimmering 
 water, seemed to beckon her down with long brown 
 hands to a grave amid their chilly bowers. She turned 
 to flee : but she had gone too far now to retreat ; hastily 
 dipping her head three times, she hurried out to the 
 sea-marge, and looking through her dripping locks at 
 the magic mirror, pronounced the incantation — 
 
198 THE COOMBES OF 
 
 " A maiden pure, here I stand, 
 Neither on sea nor yet on land ; 
 Angels watch me on either hand. 
 If you be landsman, come down the strand ; 
 If you be sailor, come up the sand ; 
 If you be angel, come from the sky, 
 Look in my glass, and pass me by. 
 Look in my glass, and go from the shore ; 
 Leave me, but love me for evermore." 
 
 Tlie incantation was hardly finished ; her eyes were 
 straining into the mirror, where, as may be supposed, 
 nothing appeared but the sparkle of the drops from her 
 own tresses, when she heard rattling down the pebbles 
 the hasty feet of men and horses. 
 
 She darted into a cavern of the high rock, and 
 hastily drest herself: the steps held on right to the 
 boat. Peeping out, half dead with terror, she saw there 
 four men, two of whom had just leaped from their 
 horses, and turning them adrift, began to help the other 
 two in running the boat down. 
 
 Whereon, out of the stern sheets, arose like an angry 
 ghost, the portly figure of Lucy Passmore, and shrieked 
 in shrillest ti-eble — 
 
 " Eh ? ye villains, ye roogs, what do ye want staling 
 poor folk's boats by night like this ? " 
 
 The whole party recoiled in terror, and one turned to 
 run up the beach, shouting at the top of his voice, 
 " 'Tis a marmaiden — a marmaiden asleep in Willy Pass- 
 more' s boat !" 
 
THE FAR WEST. 199 
 
 " I wish it were any sicli good luck," she could hear 
 Will saj ; " 'tis mj wife, oh dear ! " and he cowered 
 down, expecting the hearty cuff which he received duly, 
 as the White Witch, leaping out of the boat, dared any 
 man to touch it, and thundered to her husband to go 
 home to bed. 
 
 The wily dame, as Rose well guessed, was keeping 
 up this delay chiefly to gain time for her pupil : but she 
 had also more solid reasons for making the fight as 
 hard as possible ; for she, as well as Eose, had already 
 discerned in the ungainly figure of one of the party, the 
 same suspicious Welsh gentleman, on whose calling she 
 had divined long ago ; and she was so loyal a subject, 
 as to hold in extreme horror her husband's meddling 
 with such '• Popish skulkers,'' (as she called the whole 
 party roundly to their face.) — unless on consideration of 
 a very handsome sum of money. In vain Parsons thun- 
 dered, Campian entreated, Mr. Leigh's groom swore, 
 and her husband danced round in an agony of mingled 
 fear and covetousness. 
 
 '^ No," she cried, "as I am an honest woman and 
 loyal! This is why you left the boat down to the 
 shoore, you old traitor, you, is it'? To help off sich 
 noxious trade as this out of tlie hands of her Majesty's 
 quorum and rotulorum ? Eh ? Stand back, cowards ! 
 Will you strike a woman ?" 
 
 This last speech (as usual) was merely indicative of 
 her intention to strike the men ; for, getting out one of 
 
200 THE COOMBES OF 
 
 the oars, she swung it round and round fiercely, and at 
 last caught Father Parsons such a crack across the shins, 
 that he retreated with a howl. 
 
 *' Lucy, Lucy!" shrieked her husband, in shrillest 
 Devon falsetto, " be you mazed? Be you mazed, lass? 
 They promised me two gold nobles before I'd lend 
 them the boot!" 
 
 " Tu?" shrieked the matron, with a tone of ineffable 
 scorn. " And do yu call yourself a man?" 
 
 " Tu nobles ! tu nobles !" shrieked he again, hopping 
 about at oar's length. 
 
 '' Tu ? And would you sell your soul under ten ?" 
 
 '* Oh, if that is it," cried poor Campian, " give her 
 ten, give her ten, brother Pars — Morgans, I mean ; 
 and take care of your shins, ' Oifa Cerbero,' you 
 know — Oh, virago ! ' Furens quid foemina possit ! ' 
 Certainly she is some Lamia, some Gorgon, some " 
 
 " Take that, for your Lamys and Gorgons to an 
 honest woman !" and in a moment poor Campian's thin 
 legs were cut from under him, while the virago, 
 " mounting on his trunk astride," like that more famous 
 one on Hudibras, cried, " Ten nobles, or I'll kep ye 
 here till morning !" And the ten nobles were paid into 
 her hand. 
 
 And now the boat, its dragon guardian being 
 pacified, was run down to the sea, and close past 
 the nook where poor little Rose was squeezing herself 
 into the furtliest and darkest corner, among wet sea- 
 
THE FAR WEST. 201 
 
 weed and rough barnacles, holding her breath as they 
 approached. 
 
 They passed her, and the boat's keel was already in 
 the water ; Lucy had followed them close, for reasons 
 of her own, and percei^'ing close to the water's edge 
 a dark cavern, cunningly surmised that it contained 
 Kose, and planted her ample person right across 
 its mouth, while she grumbled at her husband, the 
 strangers, and above all at Mr. Leigh's groom, to whom 
 she prophesied pretty plainly Launceston gaol and the 
 gallows; while the "s\Tetched serving man, who would 
 as soon have dared to leap off Welcombe Cliff, as to 
 return railing for railing to the White Witch, in vain 
 entreated her mercy, and tried, by all possible dodging, 
 to keep one of the party between himself and her, lest 
 her redoubted eye should '' overlook" him once more 
 to his ruin. 
 
 But the night's adventures were not ended yet ; for 
 just as the boat was launched, a faint halloo was heard 
 upon the beach, and a minute after, a horseman plunged 
 down the pebbles, and along the sand, and pulling his 
 horse up on its haunches close to the ten*ified group, 
 dropped, rather than leaped, from the saddle. 
 
 The serving-man, though he dared not tackle a witch, 
 knew well enough how to deal with a swordsman ; and 
 drawing, sprang upon the new comer : and then re- 
 coiled — 
 
 " God forgive me, it's Mr. Eustace ! Oh, dear Sir, 
 
202 THE COOMBES OF 
 
 I took you for one of Sir Richard's men ! Oh, Sir, 
 you're hurt!" 
 
 "A scratch, a scratch!" almost moaned Eustace. 
 *' Help me into the boat, Jack. Gentlemen, I must 
 with you." 
 
 " Not with us, surely, my dear son, vagabonds upon 
 the face of the earth? " said kind-hearted Campian. 
 
 " With you, for ever. All is over here. Whither 
 God and the cause lead" — and he staggered toward 
 the boat. 
 
 As he passed Rose, she saw his ghastly bleeding face, 
 half bound up with a handkerchief, which could not 
 conceal the convulsions of rage, shame, and despair, 
 which twisted it from all its usual beauty. His eyes 
 glared wildly round — and once, right into the cavern. 
 They met hers, so full, and keen, and dreadful, that 
 forgetting that she was utterly invisible, the terrified 
 girl was on the point of shrieking aloud. 
 
 " He has overlooked me ! " said she, shuddering to 
 herself, as she recollected his threat of yesterday. 
 
 " Who has wounded you?" asked Campian. 
 
 " My cousin — Amy as— and taken the letter !" 
 
 " The devil take him, then!" cried Parsons, stamping 
 up and down upon the sand in fury. 
 
 " Ay, curse him — you may ! I dare not I He saved 
 me — sent me here!" — and, with a groan, he made an 
 effort to enter the boat. 
 
 " Oh, my dear young gentleman," cried Lucy Pass- 
 
THE FAR WEST. 203 
 
 more, her woman's heart bursting out at the sight of 
 pain, " jou must not goo forth with a grane wound 
 like to that. Do je let me just bind mun up — do ye 
 now !" and she advanced. 
 
 Eustace thrust her back. 
 
 " No ! better bear it. I deserve it — devils ! I deserve 
 it ! On board, or we shall all be lost — William Gary is 
 close behind me I" 
 
 And at that news the boat was thrust into the sea, 
 faster than ever it went before, and only in time ; for it 
 was but just round the rocks, and out of sight, when the 
 rattle of Gary's horsehoofs was heard above. 
 
 " That rascal of Mr. Leigh's will catch it now, the 
 Popish villain !^^ said Lucy Passmore aloud. " You lie 
 still there, dear life, and settle your sperrits ; you'm so 
 safe as ever was rabbit to burrow. I'll see what 
 happens, if I die for it!" And so saying, she squeezed 
 herself up through a cleft to a higher ledge, from whence 
 she could see what passed in the valley. 
 
 " There mun is ! in the meadow^ trying to catch the 
 horses ! There comes Mr. Gary ! Goodness Father, 
 how a rid'th ! he's over wall already ! Eon, Jack ! ron 
 then ! A'll get to the river ! Xo, a waint ! Goodness 
 Father ! There's Mr. Gary cotched mun ! A's down, 
 a's down!" 
 
 '* Is he dead?" asked Rose, shuddering. 
 
 " Iss, fegs, dead as nits ! and Mr. Gary off his liorse, 
 standing overthwart mun ! No, a baint ! A's up now. 
 
204 THE COOMBES OF 
 
 Suspose he was hit wi' the flat. What ever is Mr. Gary 
 tu ? Telling wi' mun, a bit. O dear, dear, dear ! " 
 
 " Has he killed him?" cried poor Rose. 
 
 "No, fegs, no ! kecking mun, kecking mun, so hard 
 as ever was futehall ! Goodness Father, who did ever ? 
 If a haven't kecked mun right into river, and got on 
 mun's horse and rod away ! " 
 
 And so saying, down she came again. 
 
 '' And now then, my dear life, us be better to goo 
 hoom and get you sommat warm. You'm mortal cold, 
 I raekon, by now. I was cruel feard for ye : but I kept 
 mun off clever, didn't I, now?" 
 
 " I wish — I wish I had not seen Mr. Leigh's face !" 
 
 " Iss, dreadful, weren't it, poor young soul; a sad 
 night for his poor mother!" 
 
 " Lucy, I can't get his face out of my mind. I'm 
 sure he overlooked me." 
 
 " then ! who ever heard the like o' that ? When 
 young gentlemen do overlook young ladies, taint thikke- 
 theor aways, I knoo. Never you think on it." 
 
 " But I can't help thinking of it," said Eose. '* Stop. 
 Shall we go home yet? W^here's that servant?" 
 
 " Never mind, he waint see us, here under the hill. 
 I'd much sooner to know where my old man was. I've 
 a sort of a forecasting in my inwards, like, as I always 
 has when aught's gwain to happen, as though I shuldn't 
 zee mun again, like, I have, Miss. W^ell — he was a 
 bedient old soul, after all, he was. Goodness Father ! 
 
THE FAR WEST. 205 
 
 and all this while us have forgot the very thing us 
 come about I Who did ye see?" 
 
 " Only that face!" said Rose, shuddering. 
 
 " Not in the glass, maid? Say then, not in the 
 glass?" 
 
 " Would to heaven it had been ! Lucy, what if he 
 were the man I was fated to " 
 
 "He? Why he's a praste, a Popish praste, that 
 can't marry if he would, poor wratch." 
 
 " He is none ; and I have cause enough to know it ! " 
 And, for want of a better confidant, Eose poured into 
 the willing ears of her companion the whole story of 
 yesterday's meeting. 
 
 " He's a pretty wooer ! " said Lucy at last, contemp- 
 tuously. " Be a brave maid, then, be a brave maid, 
 and never temfy yourself with his unlucky face. It's 
 because there was none here worthy of ye, that ye seed 
 none in glass. Maybe he's to be a foreigner, from over 
 seas, and that's why his sperit was so long a coming. 
 A duke, or a prince to the least, 111 warrant, he'll be, 
 that carries off the Eose of Bideford." 
 
 But in spite of all the good dame's flattery, Eose 
 could not wipe that fierce face away from her eyeballs. 
 She reached home safely, and crept to bed undiscovered : 
 and when the next morning, as was to be expected, 
 found her laid up with something very like a fever, from 
 excitement, terror, and cold, the phantom grew stronger 
 and stronger before her, and it required all lier woman's 
 
206 THE COOMBES OF THE FAR WEST. 
 
 tact and self-restraint to avoid betraying l)y her excla- 
 mations what had happened on that fantastic night. 
 After a fortnight's weakness, however, she recovered 
 and went hack to Bideford : but ere she arrived there, 
 Amyas was far across the seas on his way to Milford 
 Haven, as shall be told in the ensuing chapters. 
 
CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE TKUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM OF PLYMOUTH. 
 
 " The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew ; 
 The furrow follow'd free ; 
 We were the first that ever burst 
 Into that silent sea." 
 
 The Ancient Mariner. 
 
 It was too late and too dark last night to see the old 
 house at Stow. We will look round us, then, this bright 
 October day, while Sir Richard and Amy as, about 
 eleven o'clock in the forenoon, are pacing up and down 
 the terraced garden to the south. Amy as has slept till 
 luncheon, {. e. till an hour ago : but Sir Richard, in 
 spite of the bustle of last night, was up and in the 
 Talley by six o'clock, recreating the valiant souls of 
 himself and two terrier dogs by the chase of sundry 
 badgers. 
 
 Old Stow House stands, or rather stood, some four 
 miles beyond the Cornish border, on the northern slope 
 of the largest and loveliest of those coombes of whicli 
 I spoke in the last chapter. Eighty years after Sir 
 Richard's time, there arose there a huge Palladian pile, 
 bedizened with every monstrosity of bad taste, which 
 was built, so the story runs, by Charles the Second, for 
 
208 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 Sir Richard's great grandson, the heir of that famous 
 Sir Bevil who* defeated the Parliamentary troops at 
 Stratton, and died soon after, fighting valiantly at 
 Lansdowne over Bath. But, like most other things 
 which owed their existence to the Stuarts, it rose only 
 to fall again. An old man who had seen, as a boy, the 
 fomidation of the new house laid, lived to see it pulled 
 down again, and the A'ery bricks and timber sold upon 
 the spot; and since then the stables have become a 
 farm house, the tennis-court a sheepcote, the gi*eat quad- 
 rangle a rick-yard ; and civilization, spreading wave 
 on wave so fast elsewhere, has surged back from that 
 lonely corner of the land — let us hope, only for a while. 
 But I am not writing of that great new Stow House, 
 of the past glories whereof quaint pictures still hang 
 in the neighbouring houses ; nor of that famed Sir Bevil, 
 most beautiful and gallant of his generation, on whom, 
 with his grandfather Sir Eichard, old Prince has his 
 pompous epigram — 
 
 " '\i\Tiere next shall famous Grenvil's ashes stand ? 
 Thy grandsire fills the sea, and thou the land." 
 
 I have to deal with a simpler age, and a sterner 
 generation ; and with the old house, which had stood 
 there, in part at least, from grey and mythic ages, when 
 the first Sir Eichard, son of Hamon Dentatus, Lord of 
 Carboyle, the grandson of Duke Eobert, son of Eou, 
 settled at Bideford, after slaying the Prince of South- 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENIIAM. 209 
 
 Galis, and the Lord of Glamorgan, and gave to the 
 Cistercian monks of Neath all his conquests in South 
 Wales. It was a huge rambling building, half castle, 
 half dwelling-house, such as may be seen still (almost an 
 unique specimen) in Compton Castle near Torquay, ihe 
 dwelling place of Humphrey Gilbert, Walter Ealeigh's 
 half-brother, and Richard Grenvile's bosom friend, of 
 whom more hereafter. On three sides, to the north, 
 west, and south, the lofty walls of the old ballium 
 still stood, with their machicolated turrets, loopholes, 
 and dark downward crannies for dropping stones and 
 fire on the besiegers, the relics of a more unsettled age : 
 but the southern coui't of the ballium had become a 
 flower-garden, with quaint terraces, statues, knots of 
 flowers, clipped yews and hollies, and all the pedantries 
 of the topiarian art. And toward the east, where the vista 
 of the valley opened, the old walls were gone, and the 
 frowning Norman keep, ruined in the wars of the Eoses, 
 had been replaced by the rich and stately architecture 
 of the Tudors. Altogether, the house, like the time, 
 was in a transitionary state, and represented faithfully 
 enough the passage of the old middle age into the new 
 life which had just burst into blossom throughout 
 Europe, never, let us pray, to see its autumn or its 
 winter. 
 
 From the house on three sides, the hill sloped 
 steeply down, and the garden where Sir Richard and 
 Amyas were walking gave a truly English prospect. 
 
 VOL. I. p 
 
210 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 At one turn tlicy could catch, over the western walls, 
 a glimpse of the blue ocean flecked with passing sails ; 
 and at the next, spread far below them, range on range 
 of fertile park, stately avenue, yellow autumn wood- 
 land, and purple heather moors, lapping over and 
 over each other up the valley to the old British earth- 
 work, which stood black and furze-growi;i on its conical 
 peak ; and standing out against the sky on the highest 
 bank of hill which closed the valley to the east, the 
 lofty tower of Kilkhampton church, rich with the monu- 
 ments and offerings of five centuries of Grenviles. 
 A yellow eastern haze hung soft over park, and wood, 
 and moor ; the red cattle lowed to each other as they 
 stood brushing away the flies in the rivulet far below ; 
 the colts in the horse-park close on their right whinnied 
 as they played together, and their sires from the Queen's 
 park, on the opposite hill, answered them in fuller 
 though fainter voices. A rutting stag made the still 
 woodland rattle with his hoarse thunder, and a rival far 
 up the valley gave back a trumpet note of defiance, and 
 was himself defied fi'om heathery brows which quivered 
 far away above, half seen through the veil of eastern 
 mist. And close at home, upon the terrace before the 
 house, amid romping spaniels and golden-haired children, 
 sat Lady Grenvile herself, the beautiful St. Leger of 
 Annery, the central jewel of all that glorious place, 
 and looked down at her noble children, and then up at 
 her more noble husband, and round at that broad para- 
 
OF MR. JOIIX OXEXHAM. 211 
 
 dise of the west, till life seemed too full of happiness, 
 and heaven of light. 
 
 And all the while up and down paced Amy as and 
 Sir Eichard, talking long, earnestly, ^nd slow ; for they 
 both knew that the turning point of the boy's life was 
 come. 
 
 *' Yes," said Sir Eichard, after Amyas, in his blunt 
 simple way, had told him the whole story about Eose 
 Salterne and his brother, — " yes, sweet lad, thou hast 
 chosen the better part, thou and thy brother also, and 
 it shall not be taken from you. Only be strong, lad, 
 and ti'ust in God that he will make a man of you." 
 
 '• I do trust," said Amyas. 
 
 " Thank God," said Sir Eichard, '• that you have 
 yourself taken from my heart that which was my great 
 anxiety for you, from the day that your good father, 
 who sleeps in peace, committed you to my hands. For 
 all best things, Amyas, become, when misused, the very 
 worst ; and the love of woman, because it is able to lift 
 man's soul to the heavens, is also able to drag him 
 down to hell. But you have learnt better, Amyas ; 
 and know, with our old German forefathers, that as 
 Tacitus saith, ' Sera juvenum Venus, ideoque inex- 
 hausta pubertas.' And not only that, xVmyas ; but trust 
 me, that silly fashion of the French and Italians, to be 
 hanging ever at some woman's apron-string, so that no 
 boy shall count himself a man unless he can ' vagghez- 
 ziare le donne,' whether maids or wives, alas ! matters 
 
 p2 
 
212 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 little; that fjishion, I say, is little less liurtful to the 
 soul tlian open sin ; for by it are bred vanity and expense, 
 envy and licartburning, yea, hatred and murder often ; 
 and even if that be escaped, yet the rich treasure of 
 a manly worship, which should be kept for one alone, 
 is squandered and parted upon many, and the bride 
 at last comes in for nothing but the very last leavings 
 and cajyiit mortuum of her bridegroom's heart, and 
 becomes a mere ornament for his table, and a means 
 whereby he may obtain a progeny. May God, who 
 has saved me from that death in life, save you also!" 
 And as he spoke, he looked down toward his wife upon 
 the terrace below ; and she, as if guessing instinctively 
 that he was talking of her, looked up with so sweet 
 a smile, that Sir Richard's stern face melted into a very 
 glory of spiritual sunshine. 
 
 Amyas looked at them both and sighed ; and then 
 tui'ning the conversation suddenly — 
 
 " And I may go to Ireland to-morrow ?" 
 
 " You shall sail in the ' Mary' for Milford Haven, with 
 these letters to Winter. If the wind serves, you may 
 bid the master drop down the river to-night, and be 
 off; for we must lose no time.'^ 
 
 " Winter ? " said Amyas. " He is no friend of mine, 
 since he left Drake and us cowardly at the Straits of 
 Magellan." 
 
 " Duty must not wait for private quarrels, even though 
 they be just ones, lad : but lie will not be your general. 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENIIAM. 213 
 
 AVlien you come to tlie Marshal, or tlie Lord Deputy, 
 give either of them this letter, and they will set you 
 work, — and hard work too, I warrant." 
 
 " I want nothing better." 
 
 " Eight, lad ; the best reward for having wrought 
 well abeady, is to have more to do ; and he that has 
 been faithful over a few things, must find his account 
 in being made ruler over many things. That is the 
 true and heroical rest, which only is worthy of gentle- 
 men and sons of God. As for those who, either in this 
 world or the world to come, look for idleness, and hope 
 that God shall feed them with pleasant things, as it 
 were with a spoon, Amyas, I count them cowards and 
 base, even though they call themselves saints and elect." 
 
 " I wish you could persuade my poor cousin of that." 
 
 " He has yet to learn what losing his life to save it 
 means, Amyas. Bad men have taught him, (and I fear 
 these Anabaptists and Puritans at home teach little 
 else,) that it is the one great business of every man to 
 save his own soul after he dies, every one for himself; 
 and that that, and not divine self-sacrifice, is the one 
 thing needful, and the better part which Mary chose." 
 
 " I think men are inclined enough already to be 
 selfish, without being taught that." 
 
 " Right, lad. For me, if I could hang up such a 
 teacher on higli as an enemy of mankind, and a 
 corrupter of youth, I would do it gladly. Is there not 
 cowardice and self-seeking enough about the hearts of 
 
214 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 US fallen sons of Adam, that these false prophets, with 
 their baits of heaven, and their terrors of hell, must 
 exalt om* dirtiest vices into heavenly virtues and the 
 means of bliss ? Farewell to chivalry and to desperate 
 valour, farewell to patriotism and loyalty, farewell to 
 England and to the manhood of England, if once it 
 shall become the fashion of our preachers to bid every 
 man, as the Jesuits do, take care first of what they call 
 the safety of his soul. Every man will be afraid to die 
 at his post, because he will be afraid that he is not fit 
 to die. Amyas, do thou do thy duty like a man, to thy 
 country, thy queen, and thy God; and count thy life a 
 worthless thing, as did the holy men of old. Do thy 
 work, lad ; and leave thy soul to the care of Him who 
 is just and merciful in this, that He rewards every man 
 according to his work. Is there respect of persons with 
 God ? Now come in, and take the letters, and to horse. 
 And if I hear of thee dead there at Smerwick fort, with 
 all thy wounds in front, I shall weep for thy mother, 
 lad : but I shall have never a sigh for thee." 
 
 If any one shall be startled at hearing a fine gentle- 
 man and a warrior like Sir Richard quote Scripture, 
 and think Scripture also, they must be referred to the 
 writings of the time ; which they may read not without 
 profit to themselves, if they discover therefrom how it 
 was possible then for men of the world to be thoroughly 
 ingrained with the Gospel, and yet to be free from any 
 taint of superstitious fear, or false devoutness. The 
 
OF MR. JOHX OXENHAM. 215 
 
 religion of those days was such as no soldier need have 
 been ashamed of confessing. At least, Sir Richard died 
 as he lived, without a shudder, and without a whine ; 
 and these were his last words, fifteen years after that, 
 as he lay shot through and through, a captive among 
 popish Spaniards, priests, crucifixes, confession, extreme 
 unction, and all other means and appliances for deliver- 
 ing men out of the hands of a God of love : — 
 
 ''Here die I, Eichard Grenvile, with a joyful and 
 quiet mind; for that I have ended my life as a true 
 soldier ought, fighting for his country, queen, religion, 
 and honour: my soul willingly departing from this 
 body, leaving behind the lasting fame of having behaved 
 as every valiant soldier is in his duty bound to do." 
 
 Those were the last words of Richard Grenvile. The 
 pulpits of those days had taught them to him. 
 
 But to return. That day's events were not over yet. 
 For, when they went down into the house, the first 
 person whom they met was the old steward, in search 
 of his master. 
 
 " There is a manner of roog. Sir Richard, a master- 
 less man, at the door ; a very forsvard fellow, and must 
 needs speak with you." 
 
 *' A masterless man ? He had better not to speak to 
 me, unless he is in love with gaol and gallows." 
 
 " Well, your worship," said the steward, " I expect 
 that is what he does want, for he swears he will not 
 leave the gate till he has seen you." 
 
216 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 " Seen me ? Halidame ! he shall see me, here and at 
 Launceston too, if he likes. Bring him in." 
 
 " Fegs, Sir Richard, we are half afeard, with your 
 good leave — " 
 
 " Hillo, Tony," cried Amyas, '' who was ever afeard 
 yet with Sir Richard's good leave?" 
 
 " What, has the fellow a tail or honis ?" 
 
 " Massy no : but I be afear'd of treason for your 
 honour; for the fellow is pinked all over in heathen 
 patterns, and as brown as a filbert ; and a tall roog, a 
 very strong roog. Sir, and a foreigner too, and a mighty 
 staff with him. I expect him to be a manner of Jesuit, 
 or wild Irish, Sir ; and indeed, the grooms have no 
 stomach to handle him, nor the dogs neither, or he had 
 been under the pump before now, for they that saw him 
 coming up the hill swear that he had fire coming out of 
 his mouth." 
 
 "Fire out of his mouth?" said Sir Richard. "The 
 men are drunk." 
 
 "Pinked all over? He must be a sailor," said 
 Amyas ; "let me out and see the fellow, and if he needs 
 putting^ forth — " 
 
 " AVhy. I dare say he is not so big but what he will 
 go into thy pocket. So go, lad, while I finish my 
 writing." 
 
 Amyas went out, and at the back door, leaning on 
 his staff, stood a tall, rawboned, ragged man, " pinked all 
 over/' as the steward had said. 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 217 
 
 " Hillo, lad!" quoth Amyas. *' Before we come to 
 talk, thou wilt please to lay down that Plymouth cloak 
 of thine." And he pointed to the cudgel, which among 
 west-country mariners usually bore that name. 
 
 "I'll warrant," said the old steward, " that where he 
 found his cloak he found a purse not far off." 
 
 " But not hose or doublet ; so the magical virtue of 
 his staff has not helped him much. But put down thy 
 staff, man, and speak like a Christian, if thou be one." 
 
 "I am a Christian, though 1 look like a heathen ; 
 and no rogue, though a masterless man, alas ! But I 
 want nothing, deserving nothing, and only ask to speak 
 with Sir Eichard, before I go on my way." 
 
 There was something stately and yet humble about 
 the man's tone and manner which attracted Amyas, 
 and he asked more gently where he was going and 
 whence he came. 
 
 " From Padstow Port, Sir, to Clovelly town, to see 
 my old mother, if indeed she be yet alive, which God 
 knoweth." 
 
 " Clovally man ! why didn't thee say thee was Clo- 
 vally man?" asked all the grooms at once, to whom a 
 west countr}"man was of coui'se a brother. The old 
 steward asked, — 
 
 " What's thy mother's name, then ?" 
 
 *' Susan Yeo." 
 
 "What, that lived under the archway?" asked a 
 groom. 
 
218 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 " Lived ? " said the man. 
 
 " Iss, sure ; her'th been gone this winter two year, 
 poor soul." 
 
 The man stood quite silent and unmoved for a minute 
 or two; and then said quietly to himself, in Spanish, 
 '• That which is, is best." 
 
 "You speak Spanish?" asked Amyas, more and 
 more interested. 
 
 " I had need to do so, young Sir ; I have been 
 live years in the Spanish main, and only set foot on 
 shore two days ago; and if you will let me have 
 speech of Sir Richard, I will tell him that at which both 
 the ears of him that heareth it shall tingle ; and if not, 
 I can but go on to Mr. Gary of Clovelly, if he be yet 
 alive, and there disburthen my soul : but I would sooner 
 have spoken with one that is a mariner like to myself." 
 
 " And you shall," said Amyas. " Steward, we will 
 have this man in ; for all his rags, he is a man of wit." 
 And he led him in. 
 
 " I only hope he ben't one of those popish murderers," 
 said the old steward, keeping at a safe distance from 
 him, as they entered the hall. 
 
 " Popish, old master? There's little fear of my being 
 that. Look liere ! " And drawing back his rags, he 
 showed a ghastly scar, which encircled his TVTist and 
 wound round and up his fore-arm. 
 
 " I got that on the rack," said he quietly, " in the 
 Inquisition at Lima." 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 219 
 
 " Father ! Father ! why didn't you tell us that you 
 ^yere a poor Christian ? " asked the penitent steward. 
 
 " Because I have had nought but my deserts ; and 
 but a taste of them either, as the Lord knoweth who 
 delivered me; and I wasn't going to make myself a 
 beggar and a show on their account." 
 
 " By heaven, you are a brave fellow," said Amyas. 
 *' Come along straight to Sir Eichard's room." 
 
 So in tliey went, where Sir Richard sat in his library 
 among books, despatches, state-papers, and warrants ; 
 for though he was not yet, as in after times (after the 
 fashion of those days), admiral, general, member of 
 parliament, privy councillor, justice of the peace, and so 
 forth, all at once, yet, there were few great men with 
 w^hom he did not correspond, or great matters w4th 
 which he was not cognizant. 
 
 *' Hillo,- Amyas, have you bound the wild man 
 already, and brought him in to swear allegiance?" 
 
 But before Amyas could answer, the man looked 
 earnestly on him — " Amyas ? " said he ; "is that yom- 
 name, Sir?" 
 
 " Amyas Leigh, is my name, at your service, good 
 fellow." 
 
 " Of Burrough by Bideford ? " 
 
 " Why then ? What do you know of me ? " 
 
 " Oh Sir, Sir ! young brains and happy ones have 
 short memories ; but old and sad brains too too long 
 ones, often! Do you mind one that was with Mr. 
 
220 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 Oxenliam, Sir? a s^yearmg reprobate he was, God for- 
 give liim, and liatli forgiven him too, for his dear Son's 
 sake — one, Sir, that gave you a horn, a toy with a chart 
 on it?" 
 
 "Soul alive!" cried Amyas, catching him by the 
 hand; "and are you he? The horn? why I have it 
 still, and w^ill keep it to my dying day too. But where 
 is Mr. Oxenham ? " 
 
 "Yes, my good fellow, where is Mr. Oxenham?" 
 asked Sir Richard, rising. " You are somewhat over- 
 hasty in welcoming your old acquaintance, Amyas, 
 before we have heard from him whether he can give 
 honest account of himself, and of his captain. For there 
 is more than one way by which sailors may come home 
 without their captains, as poor Mr. Barker of Bristol 
 found to his cost. God grant that there may have been 
 no such traitorous dealing here." 
 
 " Sir Richard Grenvile, if I had been a guilty man to 
 my noble captain, as I have to God, I had not come 
 here this day to you, from wdiom villainy has never 
 found favour, nor ever will; for I know yoiu' condi- 
 tions well. Sir ; and trust in the Lord, that if you will 
 be pleased to hear me, you shall know mine." 
 
 " Thou art a well-spoken knave. We shall see.^' 
 
 "My dear Sir," said Amyas in a whisper, " I will 
 warrant this man guiltless." 
 
 " I verily believe him to be ; but this is too serious a 
 matter to be left on guess. If he will be sworn — " 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 221 
 
 Whereon the man. humbly enough, said, that if it 
 would please Sir Eichard, he would rather not be 
 sworn. 
 
 " But it does not please me, rascal ! Did I not warn 
 thee, Amyas?" 
 
 " Sir," said the man proudly, " God forbid that my 
 word should not be as good as my oath : but it is 
 against my conscience to be sworn." 
 
 " What have we here ? some fantastical Anabaptist, 
 who is wiser than his teachers ? " 
 
 " My conscience, Sir — " 
 
 *' The devil take it and thee ! I never heard a man 
 yet begin to prate of his conscience, but I knew that he 
 was about to do something more than ordinarily cruel 
 or false." 
 
 " Sir," said the man, coolly enough, '' do you sit 
 here to judge me according to law, and yet contrary 
 to the law swear profane oaths, for which a fine is 
 provided?" 
 
 Amyas expected an explosion : but Sir Eichard pulled 
 a shilling out and put it on the table. " There — my fine 
 is paid, sirrah, to the poor of Kilkhampton : but hearken 
 thou all the same. If thou wilt not speak on oath, thou 
 shalt speak on compulsion ; for to Launceston gaol thou 
 goest, there to answer for Mr. Oxenham's death, on sus- 
 picion whereof, and of mutiny causing it, I will attach 
 thee and every soul of his crew that comes home. We 
 have lost too many gallant captains of late by treachery 
 
222 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 of tlieir crews, and lie that will not clear himself on 
 oath, must be held for guilty, and self-condemned." 
 
 " My good fellow," said Amyas, who could not give 
 up his belief in the man's honesty ; " why, for such 
 fantastical scruples, peril not only your life, but your 
 honour, and Mr. Oxenham's also ? For if you be ex- 
 amined by question, you may be forced by torment to 
 say that which is not true." 
 
 " Little fear of that, young Sir ! " answered he with a 
 grim smile; " I have had too much of the rack already, 
 and the strappado too, to care much what man can do 
 unto me. I would heartily that I thought it lawful to 
 be sworn : but not so thinking, I can but submit to the 
 cruelty of man ; though I did expect more merciful things, 
 as a most miserable and wrecked mariner, at the hands 
 of one who hath himself seen God's ways in the sea, 
 and his wonders in the great deep. Sir Richard Grenvile, 
 if you will hear my story, may God avenge on my head 
 all my sins from my youth up until now, and cut me 
 off from the blood of Christ, and if it were possible, 
 from the number of his elect, if I tell you one whit more 
 or less than truth ; and if not, I commend myself into 
 the hands of God." 
 
 Sir Richard smiled. " Well, thou art a brave ass, 
 and valiant, though an ass manifest. Dost thou not 
 see, fellow, how thou hast sworn a ten-times bigger 
 oath than ever I should have asked of thee ? But this 
 is the way with your Anabaptists, avIio by their very 
 
OF MK. JOHN OXENHAM. 223 
 
 hatred of forms and ceremonies, show of how much 
 account they think them, and then bind themselves out 
 of their own fantastical self-will with far heavier bur- 
 dens than ever the lawful authorities have laid on them 
 for the sake of the commonweal. But what do they 
 care for the commonweal, as long as they can save, as 
 they fancy, each man his own dirty soul for himself? 
 However, thou art sworn now with a vengeance ; go on 
 with thy tale : and first, Who art thou, and whence ? " 
 
 " Well, Sir," said the man, quite unmoved by this 
 last explosion; "my name is Salvation Yeo, born in 
 Clovelly Street, in the year 1526, where my father 
 exercised the mystery of a barber surgeon, and a 
 preacher of the people since called Anabaptists, for 
 which I return humble thanks to God." 
 
 Sir Richard. — Fie ! thou naughty knave ; return 
 thanks that thy father was an ass ? 
 
 Yeo. — Nay, but because he was a barber surgeon ; 
 for I myself learnt a touch of that trade, and thereby 
 saved my life, as I will tell presently. And I do think 
 that a good mariner ought to have all knowledge of 
 carnal and worldly cunning, even to tailoring and shoe- 
 making, that he may be able to turn his hand to what- 
 soever may hap. 
 
 Sir Richard. — Well spoken, fellow : but let us have 
 thy text without thy comments. Forwards ! 
 
 Yeo. — Well, Sir. I was bred to the sea from my 
 youth, and was with Captain Hawkins in his three 
 
224 TRUfi AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 voyages, wlilch he made to Guinea for negro slaves, 
 and thence to the West Indies. 
 
 Sir Richard. — Then thrice thou wentest to a bad 
 end, though Captain Hawkins be my good friend ; and 
 the last time to a bad end thou earnest. 
 
 Yeo. — No denying that last, your worsliip : but as for 
 the former, I doubt : — about the unlawfulness I mean ; 
 being the negroes are of the children of Ham, who are 
 cursed and reprobate, as Scripture declares, and their 
 blackness testifies, being Satan's own livery ; among 
 whom therefore there can be none of the elect, wherefore 
 the elect are not required to treat them as brethren. 
 
 Sir Richard. — What a plague of a pragmatical sea- 
 lawyer have we here? And I doubt not, thou h}^o- 
 crite, that though thou wilt call the negroes' black skin 
 Satan's livery, when it serves thy turn to steal them, 
 thou wilt find out sables to be Heaven's livery every 
 Sunday, and up with a godly howl unless a parson 
 shall preach in a black gown Geneva fashion. Out 
 upon thee ! Go on with thy tale, lest thou finish thy 
 sermon at Launceston after all. 
 
 Yeo. — The Lord's people were always a reviled 
 people and a persecuted people : but I will go forward. 
 Sir ; for Heaven forbid but that I should declare wdiat 
 God has done for me. For till lately, from my youth 
 up, I was given over to all wretchlessness and unclean 
 living, and was by nature a child of the devil, and to 
 every good work j-epro bate, even as others. 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 225 
 
 Sir Richard. — Hark to his " even as others !" Thou 
 new-whelped Pharisee, canst not confess thine own 
 vilLinies without making out others as bad as thyself, 
 and so thyself no worse than others? I only hope 
 that thou hast shown none of thy devil's doings to 
 lyir. Oxenham. 
 
 Yeo. — On the word of a Christian man, Sir, as I 
 said before, I kept true faith with him, and would have 
 been a better friend to him, Sir, what is more, than ever 
 he was to himself. 
 
 Sir Richard. — Alas ! that might easily be. 
 
 Yeo. — I think. Sir, and will make good against any 
 man, that Mr. Oxenham was a noble and valiant gentle- 
 man ; tnie of his word, stout of his sword, skilfid by 
 sea and land, and worthy to have been Lord High 
 Admiral of England (saving your worship's presence), 
 but that through two great sins, wrath and avarice, he 
 was cast away miserably or ever his soul was brought 
 to the knowledge of the truth. Ah, Sir, he was a 
 Captain worth sailing under !" And Yeo heaved a deep 
 sigh. 
 
 Sir Richard. — Steady, steady, good fellow ! If thou 
 wouldst quit preaching, thou art no fool after all But 
 tell us the story without more bush-beating. 
 
 So at last Yeo settled himself to his tale : — 
 
 " Well, Sirs, I went, as Mr. Leigh knows, to Nombre 
 de Dios, with Mr. Drake and Mr. Oxenham, in L572, 
 where what we saw and did, your worship, I suppose, 
 
 VOL. I. Q 
 
226 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 knows as well as I ; and there was, as you've heard 
 maybe, a covenant between Mr. Oxenliam and Mr. Drake 
 to sail the South Seas together, which they made, your 
 worship, in my liearing under the ti-ee over Panama. 
 For when ^Ir. Drake came down from the tree, after 
 seeing the sea afar off, Mr. Oxenham and I went up 
 and saw it too ; and when we came down, Drake says, 
 * John, I have made a vow to God that I will sail that 
 water, if I live and God gives me grace ;' which he had 
 done, Sir, upon his bended knees, like a godly man as 
 he always was, and would I had taken after him ; and 
 Mr. O. says, ' I am with you, Drake, to live or die, and 
 I think I know some one there already, so we shall not 
 be quite among strangers ;' and laughed withal. Well, 
 Sirs, that voyage, as you know, never came off, because 
 Captain Drake was fighting in Ireland ; so Mr. Oxen- 
 ham, who must be up and doing, sailed for himself, and 
 I who loved him, God knows, like a brother (saving the 
 difference in our ranks), helped him to get the crew 
 together, and went as his gunner. That was in 1575 ; 
 as you know, he had a 140-ton ship, -Sir, and seventy 
 men out of Plymouth and Fowey and Dartmouth, and 
 many of them old hands of Drake's, beside a dozen or 
 so from Bideford that I picked up when I saw young 
 Master here." 
 
 " Thank God, that you did not pick me up too." 
 " Amen, amen !" said Yco, clasping his hands on his 
 breast. *' Those seventy men, Sir, — seventy gallant 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 227 
 
 men, Sir, with every one of tliem an immortal soul 
 within him, — where are they now? Gone, like the 
 spray!" And he swept his hands abroad with a wild 
 and solemn gesture. "And their blood is upon my 
 head ! " 
 
 Both Sir Kichard and Amyas began to suspect that 
 the man's brain was not altogether sound. 
 
 *' God forbid, my man," said the Knight, kindly. 
 
 " Thirteen men I persuaded to join in Bideford 
 town, beside William Penberthy of Marazion, my good 
 comrade. And what if it be said to me at the day of 
 judgment, ' Salvation Yeo, where are those fourteen whom 
 thou didst tempt to their deaths by covetousness and 
 lust of gold '? ' Not that I was alone in my sin, if the 
 truth must be told. For all the way out Mr. Oxenham 
 was making loud speech, after his pleasant way, that 
 he would make all their fortunes, and take them to 
 such a Paradise, that they should have no lust to come 
 home again. And I — God knows why — for every one 
 boast of his would make two, even to lying and empty 
 fables, and anything to keep up the men's hearts. For 
 I had really persuaded myself that we should all find 
 treasures beyond Solomon his temple, and Mr. Oxen- 
 ham would surely show us how to conquer some golden 
 city, or discover some island all made of precious stones. 
 And one day, as the Captain and I were talking after 
 our fashion, I said, 'And you shall be our king. Cap- 
 tain.' To which he, ' If I be, I shall not be long 
 . q2 
 
228 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 without a queen, and that no Indian one either.' And 
 after that he often jested ahout the Spanish ladies, 
 saying that none could show us the way to their hearts 
 better than he. Which speeches 1 took no count of then. 
 Sirs : but after I minded them, whether I would or not. 
 Well, Sirs, we came to the shore of New Spain, near 
 to the old place — that's Nombre de Dios ; and there 
 Mr. Oxenham went ashore into the woods with a boat's 
 crew, to find the negroes who helped us three years 
 before. Those are the Cimaroons, gentles, negro slaves 
 who have fled from those devils incarnate, their Spanish 
 masters, and live wild, like the beasts that perish ; men 
 of great stature, Sirs, and fierce as wolves in the 
 onslaught, but poor jabbering mazed fellows if they be 
 but a bit dismayed; and have many Indian women 
 with them, who take to these negroes a deal better 
 than to their own kin, which breeds war enough, as you 
 may guess. 
 
 " Well, Sirs, after three days, the Captain comes 
 back, looking heavy enough, and says, ' We played our 
 trick once too often, when we played it once. There 
 is no chance of stopping another re90 (that is, a mule- 
 train, Sirs,) now. Tlie Cimaroons say that since our 
 last visit they never move without plenty of soldiers, 
 two hundred shot at least. Therefore,' he said, ' my 
 gallants, we must either return empty-handed from this, 
 the very market and treasury of the whole Indies, or 
 do such a deed as men never did before, which I shall 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 229 
 
 like all the better for that very reason.' And we, 
 asking his meaning, ' Why,' he said, ' if Drake will 
 not sail the South Seas, we will;' adding profanely 
 that Drake was like Moses, who beheld the promised 
 land afar ; but he was Joshua, who would enter into it, 
 and smite the inhabitants thereof. And, for our con- 
 firmation, showed me and the rest the superscription of 
 a letter : and said, ' How I came by this is none of 
 your business : but I have had it in my bosom ever 
 since I left Plymouth; and I tell you now, what I 
 forbore to tell you at first, that the South Seas have been 
 my mark all along ; such news have I herein of plate- 
 ships, and gold-ships, and wdiat not, which will come 
 up from Quito and Lima this very month, all which, 
 with the pearls of the Gulf of Panama, and other wealth 
 unspeakable, will be ours, if we have but true English 
 hearts within us.' 
 
 " At which, gentles, we were like madmen for lust 
 of that gold, and cheerfully undertook a toil incredible ; 
 for first we run our ship aground in a great wood which 
 grew in the very sea itself, and then took out her masts, 
 and covered her in boughs, with her four cast pieces of 
 great ordnance (of which more hereafter), and leaving 
 no man in her, started for the South Seas across the 
 neck of Panama, with two small pieces of ordnance and 
 our culverins, and good store of \actuals, and with us 
 six of those negroes for a guide, and so twelve leagues 
 to a river which rmis into the South Sea. 
 
230 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 *' And there, having cut wood, we made a pinnace, 
 (and work enough we had at it,) of five-and-forty foot in 
 the keel ; and in her down the stream, and to the Isle of 
 Pearls in the Gulf of Panama." 
 
 " Into the South Sea ? Impossible !" said Sir Richard. 
 " Have a care what you say, my man ; for there is that 
 about you which would make me sorry to find you out 
 a liar." 
 
 " Impossible or not, liar or none, we went there. 
 Sir." 
 
 " Question him, Amy as, lest he turn out to have been 
 beforehand with you." 
 
 The man looked inquiringly at Amyas, who said, — 
 
 " Well, my man, of the Gulf of Panama I cannot ask 
 you, for I was never inside it : but what other parts of 
 the coast do you know?" 
 
 " Every inch, Sir, from Cabo San Francisco to Lima ; 
 more is my sorrow, for I was a galley-slave there for 
 two years and more." 
 
 " You know Lima?" 
 
 " I was there three times, worshipful gentlemen, and 
 the last was February come two years ; and there I 
 helped lade a great plate-ship, the * Cacafuogo,' they 
 called her." 
 
 Amyas started. Sir Richard nodded to him gently 
 to be silent, and then — 
 
 " And what became of her, my lad?" 
 
 " God knows, wlio knows all, and the devil who 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 231 
 
 Ireighted her. I broke prison six weeks afterwards, 
 and never heard but that she got safe into Panama." 
 
 " You never heard, then, that she was taken?" 
 
 " Taken, your worships? Who should take her?" 
 
 " Why should not a good English ship take her as 
 well as another?" asked Amyas. 
 
 '' Lord love you. Sir ; yes faith, if they had but been 
 there. Many's the time that I thought to myself, as we 
 went alongside, ' Oh, if Captain Drake was but here, 
 well to windward, and our old crew of the Dragon ! ' Ask 
 your pardon, gentles : but how is Captain Drake, if I 
 may make so bold?" 
 
 Neither could hold out longer. 
 
 " Fellow, fellow ! " cried Sir Richard, springing up, 
 •' either thou art the cunningest liar that ever earned 
 a halter, or thou hast done a deed the like of which 
 never man adventured. Dost thou not know that Cap- 
 tain Drake took that ' Cacafuogo ' and all her freight, 
 in February come two years ?" 
 
 " Captain Drake ! God forgive me, Sir ; but — Cap- 
 tain Drake in the South Seas ? He saw them, Sir, 
 from the tree-top over Panama, when I was with him, 
 and I too; but sailed them. Sir? — sailed them?" 
 
 " Yes, and round the world too," said Amyas, " and 
 I with him; and took that very 'Cacafuogo' oif Cape 
 San Francisco, as she came up to Panama." 
 
 One glance at tlie man's face was enough to prove his 
 sincerity. The great stem Anabaptist, who had not 
 
232 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 winced at the news of liis mother's death, dropt right 
 on his knees on the floor, and burst into violent sobs. 
 
 '' Glory to God ! Glory to God ! O Lord, I thank 
 thee ! Captain Drake in the South Seas ! The blood 
 of thy innocents avenged, Lord ! The spoiler spoiled, 
 and the proud robbed ; and all they whose hands were 
 mighty have found nothing. Glory, glory ! Oh, tell 
 me, Sir, did she fight ?— did she fight? " 
 
 " We gave her three pieces of ordnance only, and 
 struck down her mizen mast, and then boarded sword 
 in hand, but never had need to strike a blow ; and 
 before we left her, one of her own boys had changed 
 her name, and rechristened her the ' Cacaplata.' " 
 
 '' Glory, glory ! Cowards they are, as I told them. 
 I told them they never could stand the Devon mastiffs, 
 and well they flogged me for saying it : but they could 
 not stop my mouth. Sir, tell me, did you get the 
 ship that came up after her?" 
 
 ''What was that?" 
 
 " A long race-ship. Sir, from Guayaquil, with an old 
 gentleman on board, — Don Francisco de Xararte w^as his 
 name, — and by token, he had a gold falcon hanging to 
 a chain round his neck, and a green stone in the breast 
 of it. I saw it as we rowed him aboard. O tell me. Sir, 
 tell me for tlie love of God, did you take that ship ?" 
 
 " We did take tliat ship, and the jewel too, and her 
 Majesty has it at this very hour." 
 
 " Then tell me, Sir," a-did he slowly, as if he dreaded 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 233 
 
 an answer ; " tell me, Sir, and oh, try and mind — was 
 there a little maid aboard with the old gentleman?" 
 
 " A little maid ? Let me think. No ; I saw none." 
 
 The man settled his features again sadly. 
 
 "I thought not. I never saw her come aboard. 
 Still I hoped, like ; I hoped. Alackadaj ! God help 
 me, Salvation Yeo !" 
 
 " What have you to do with this little maid, then, 
 good fellow?" asked Grenvile. 
 
 " Ah, Sir, before I tell you that, I must go back and 
 finish the story of Mr. Oxenham, if you wdll believe me 
 enough to hear it." 
 
 " I do believe thee, good fellow, and honour thee 
 too." 
 
 " Then, Sir, I can speak with a free tongue. Where 
 was I?" 
 
 '' Where was he, Amyas?" 
 
 '' At the Isle of Pearls." 
 
 " And yet, O gentles, tell me first, how Captain Drake 
 came into the South Seas; — over the neck, as we did?" 
 
 " Through the Straits, good fellow, like any Spaniard : 
 but go on with thy story, and thou shalt have Mr. 
 Leigh's after." 
 
 '' Through the Straits ! glory ! But I '11 tell my 
 tale. Well, Sirs both — To the Island of Pearls we came, 
 we and some of the negroes. We found many huts, 
 and Indians fishing for pearls, and also a fair house, 
 with porches ; but no Spaniard therein, save one man ; 
 
234 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 at which Mr. Oxenham was like a man transported, and 
 fell on that Spaniard, crying, ' Perro, where is your 
 mistress? Where is tliebark from Lima?' To which he 
 boldly enough, ' What was his mistress to the English- 
 man?' But Mr. 0. threatened to twine a cord round 
 his head till his eyes burst out ; and the Spaniard, being 
 terrified, said that the ship from Lima was expected in 
 a fortnight's time. So for ten days we lay quiet, letting 
 neither negro nor Spaniard leave the island, and took 
 good store of pearls, feeding sumptuously on wild cattle 
 and hogs until the tenth day, when there came by a 
 small bark ; her we took, and found her from Quito, and 
 on board 60,000 pezos of gold and other store. With 
 which if we had been content, gentlemen, all had gone 
 well. And some were willing to go back at once, 
 having both treasui-e and pearls in plenty ; but Mr. O., 
 he waxed right mad, and swore to slay anj one who 
 made that motion again, assuring us that the Lima ship 
 of which he had news was far greater and richer, and 
 would make princes of us all ; which bark came in sight 
 on the sixteenth day, and was taken witliout shot or 
 slaughter. The taking of which bark, I verily believe, 
 was the ruin of every mother's son of us." 
 
 And being asked why, he answered, " First, because 
 of the discontent which was bred thereby ; for on board 
 was found no gold, but only 100,000 pezos of silver." 
 
 Sir Richard GrenviL^lL\\o\x greedy fellow ; and was 
 not that enough to stay your stomachs ? 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 235 
 
 Yeo answered, that he would to God it had been ; 
 but that, moreover, the weight of that silver was after- 
 wards a hindrance to them, and a fresh cause of discon- 
 tent, as he would afterwards declare. " So that it had 
 been well for us, Sirs, if we had left it behind, as Mr. 
 Drake left his three years before, and carried away the 
 gold only. In which I do see the evident hand of God, 
 and his just punishment for our greediness of gain ; who 
 caused Mr. Oxenham, by whom we had hoped to attain 
 great wealth, to be a snare to us, and a cause of utter 
 ruin." 
 
 " Do you think, then," said Sir Eichard, " that Mr. 
 Oxenham deceived you wilfully?" 
 
 *' I will never believe that, Sir : Mr. Oxenham had his 
 private reason for waiting for that ship, for the sake of 
 one on board, whose face would that he had never seen, 
 though he saw it then, as I fear, not for the first time 
 by many a one." And so was silent. 
 
 " Come," said both his hearers, " you have brought 
 us thus far, and you must go on." 
 
 " Gentlemen, I have concealed this matter from all 
 men, both on my voyage home and since ; and I hope 
 you will be secret in the matter, for the honour of my 
 noble Captain, and the comfort of his friends who are 
 alive. For I think it shame to publish harm of a gallant 
 gentleman, and of an ancient and worshipful family, and 
 to me a true and kind Captain, when what is done cannot 
 be undone, and least said soonest mended. Neither now 
 
236 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 would I have spoken of it, but that I was inwardly 
 
 moved to it for tlie sake of that young gentleman there 
 (looking at Amyas), that he might be warned in time 
 of God's wrath against the crying sin of adultery, and 
 flee youthful lusts, which war against the soul." 
 
 " Thou hast done wisely enough, then," said Sir 
 Richard ; " and look to it if I do not reward thee : but 
 the young gentleman here, thank God, needs no such 
 warnings, having got them already both by precept and 
 example, where thou and poor Oxenham might have 
 had them also." 
 
 " You mean Captain Drake, your worship ?" 
 "I do, SiiTah. If all men were as clean livers as he, 
 the world would be spared one half the tears that are 
 shed in it." 
 
 " Amen, Sir. At least there would have been many 
 a tear spared to us and ours. For — as all must out — in 
 that bark of Lima he took a young lady, as fair as the 
 sunshine. Sir, and seemingly about a two or three-and- 
 twenty years of age, having with her a tall young lad 
 of sixteen, and a little girl, a marvellously pretty child, 
 of about a six or seven. And the lady herself was of 
 an excellent beauty, like a whale's tooth for whiteness, 
 so that all the crew wondered at her, and could not be 
 satisfied with looking upon her. And, gentlemen, this 
 was strange, that the lady seemed in no wise afraid or 
 mournful, and bid her little girl fear nouglit, as did 
 also Mr. Oxenham : but the lad kept a very sour 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 237 
 
 countenance, and the more when he saw the lady and 
 Mr. Oxenham speaking together apart. 
 
 "AVell, Sir, after this good luck we were minded to 
 have gone straight hack to the river whence we came, 
 and so home to England with all speed. But Mr. 
 Oxenham persuaded us to return to the island, and get 
 a few more pearls. To which foolishness (which after 
 caused the mishap), I verily believe, he was moved by 
 the instigation of the devil and of that lady. For as 
 we were about to go ashore, I, going down into the 
 cabin of the prize, saw Mr. Oxenham and that lady 
 making great cheer of each other with, ' My life,' and 
 * My king,' and ' Light of my eyes,' and such toys ; 
 and being bidden by ^Ir. Oxenham to fetch out the 
 lady's mails, and take them ashore, heard how the two 
 laughed together about the old ape of Panama, (which 
 ape, or devil rather, I saw afterwards to my cost.) and 
 also how she said, that she had been dead for five years; 
 and now that Mr. Oxenham was come, she was alive 
 again, and so forth. 
 
 "Mr. Oxenham bade take the little maid ashore, 
 kissing her and playing with her, and saying to the 
 lady, ' What is yours is mine, and what is mine is 
 yours.' And she asking whether the lad should come 
 ashore, he answered, ' He is neither yours nor mine ; 
 let the spawn of Beelzebub stay on board.' After 
 which I, coming on deck again, stumbled over that 
 very lad, upon the hatchway ladder, who bore so black 
 
238 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 and despiteful a face, that I verily believe lie had over- 
 heard their speech, and so thrust him upon deck ; and 
 going below again, told Mr. Oxenham what I thought, 
 and said that it were better to put a dagger into him at 
 once, professing to be ready so to do. For which 
 grievous sin, seeing that it was committed in my un- 
 regenerate days, I hope I have obtained the gi-ace of 
 forgiveness, as I have that of hearty repentance. But 
 the lady cried out, ' Though he be none of mine, I have 
 sin enough already on my soul ;' and so laid her hand 
 on Mr Oxenham's mouth, entreating pitifully. And 
 Mr. Oxenham answered laughing, Avhen she would let 
 him, ' What care we ? let the young monkey go and 
 howl to the old one ;' and so went ashore with the lady 
 to that house, whence for three days he never came forth, 
 and would have remained longer, but that the men, find- 
 ing but few pearls, and being wearied w*itli the watching 
 and warding so many Spaniards and negroes, came 
 clamouring to him, and swore that they would return 
 or leave him there with the lady. So all went on board 
 the pinnace again, every one in ill-humom' with the 
 Captain, and he with them. 
 
 " Well, Sirs, we came back to the mouth of the river, 
 and there began our troubles ; for the negroes, as soon 
 as we were on shore, called on Mr. Oxenham to fulfil 
 the bargain he had made with them. And now it came 
 out (what few of us knew till then) that he had agreed 
 with the Cimaroons that they should have all the 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 239 
 
 prisoners which were taken, save the gold. And he, 
 though loth, was about to give up the Spaniards to 
 them, near forty in all, supposing that they intended to 
 use them as slaves : but as we all stood talking, one of 
 the Spaniards, understanding what was forward, threw 
 himself on his knees before Mr. Oxenham, and shrieking 
 like a madman, entreated not to be given up into the 
 hands of ' those devils,' said he, ' who never take a 
 Spanish prisoner, but they roast him alive, and then 
 eat his heart among them.^ We asked the negroes if 
 this was possible? To which some answered. What 
 was that to us ? But others said boldly, that it was true 
 enough, and that revenge made the best sauce, and 
 nothing was so sweet as Spanish blood ; and one, point- 
 ing to the lady, said such foul and devilish things as I 
 should be ashamed either for me to speak, or you to 
 hear. At this we were like men amazed for very 
 horror ; and Mr. Oxenham said, ' You incarnate fiends, 
 if you had taken these fellows for slaves, it had been 
 fair enough ; for you were once slaves to them, and I 
 doubt not cruelly used enough : but as for this abomina- 
 tion,' says he, ' God do so to me, and more also, if I let 
 one of them come into your murderous hands.' So 
 there was a great quarrel ; but ^Ir. Oxenham stouth 
 bade put the prisoners on board the ships again, and so 
 let the prizes go, taking with him only the treasure, and 
 the lady, and the little maid. And so the lad went on 
 to Panama, God's -wi-ath having gone out against us. 
 
240 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 " Well, Sirs, the Cimaroons after that went away 
 from us, swearing revenge (for which we cared little 
 enough), and we rowed up the river to a place where 
 three streams met, and then up the least of the three, 
 some four days' journey, till it grew all shoal and swift ; 
 and there we hauled the pinnace upon the sands, and 
 Mr. Oxenham asked the men whether they were willing 
 to carry the gold and silver over the mountains to the 
 North Sea. Some of them at first were loth to do it, 
 and I and others advised that we should leave the plate 
 behind, and take the gold only, for it would have cost 
 us three or four joui'neys at the least. But Mr. Oxen- 
 ham promised every man 100 pezos of silver over and 
 above his wages, which made them content enough, 
 and we were all to start the morrow morning. But, 
 Sirs, that night, as God had ordained, came a mishap 
 by some rash speeches of Mr. Oxenham's, which threw 
 all abroad again ; for when we had carried the treasure 
 about half a league inland, and hidden it away in a 
 house which we made of boughs, Mr. 0. being always 
 full of that his fair lady, spoke to me and William 
 Penberthy of Marazion, my good comrade, and a few 
 more, saying, ' That we had no need to return to 
 England, seeing that we were already in the very 
 garden of Eden, and wanted for nothing, but could live 
 without labour or toil ; and that it was better, w^hen we 
 got over to the North Sea, to go and seek out some fair 
 island, and there dwell in joy and pleasure till our lives' 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 241 
 
 end. And we two,' he said, ' will be king and queen, 
 and you, whom I can trust, my officers ; and for servants 
 we will have the Indians, who, I warrant, will be more 
 fain to serve honest and merry masters like us than those 
 Spanish devils,' and much more of the like ; which 
 words I liked well, — my mind, alas ! being given alto- 
 gether to carnal pleasure and vanity, — as did William 
 Penberthy, my good comrade, on whom I trust God has 
 had mercy. But the rest. Sirs, took the matter all across, 
 and began murmuring against the Captain, saying that 
 poor honest mariners like them had always the labour 
 and the pain, while he took his delight with his lady ; 
 and that they would have at least one merry night before 
 they were slain by the Cimaroons, or eaten by panthers 
 and lagartos ; and so got out of the pinnace two great 
 skins of Canary wine, which were taken in the Lima 
 prize, and sat themselves down to drink. Moreover, 
 there were in the pinnace a great sight of hens, which 
 came from the same prize, by which ^Ir. 0. set great 
 store, keeping them for the lady and the little maid ; 
 and falling upon these, the men began to blaspheme, 
 saying, ' What a plague had the Captain to fill the boat 
 with dirty live lumber for that giglet's sake? They 
 had a better right to a good supper than ever she had, 
 and might fast awhile to cool her hot blood ; ' and so 
 cooked and eat those hens, plucking them on board the 
 pinnace, and letting the feathers fall into the stream. 
 But when William Penberthy, my good comrade, saw the 
 
 VOL. T. R 
 
242 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 feathers go floating away down, he asked them if they 
 were mad, to lay a trail by which the Spaniards would 
 surely track them out, if they came after them, as 
 without doubt they would. But they laughed him to 
 scorn, and said that no Spanish cur dared follow on the 
 heels of true English mastiffs as they were, and other 
 boastful speeches ; and at last, being heated with wine, 
 began afresh to murmur at the Captain. And one 
 speaking of his counsel about the island, the rest alto- 
 gether took it amiss and out of the way ; and some 
 sprang up crying treason, and others that he meant to 
 defraud them of the plate which he had promised, and 
 others that he meant to desert them in a strange land, 
 and so forth, till Mr. 0., hearing the hubbub, came out 
 to them from the house, when they reviled him foully, 
 swearing that he meant to cheat them ; and one Edward 
 Stiles, a Wapping man, mad with drink, dared to say 
 that he was a fool for not giving up the prisoners to the 
 negroes, and what was it to him if the lady roasted ? the 
 negroes should have her yet ; and drawing his sword, 
 ran upon the Captain ; for which I was about to strike him 
 through the body ; but the Captain, not caring to waste 
 steel on such a ribald, with his fist caught him such a 
 buffet behind the ear, that he fell down stark dead, and 
 all the rest stood amazed. Then Mr. Oxenham called 
 out, ' All honest men who know me, and can trust me, 
 stand by your lawful Captain against these ruffians.' 
 Whereon, Sirs, I, and Penberthy my good comrade. 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 243 
 
 and four Plymouth men, who had sailed with Mr. 0. 
 in Mr. Drake's ship, and knew his trusty and valiant 
 conditions, came over to him, and swore before God to 
 stand by him and the lady. Then said Mr. 0. to the 
 rest, * Will you cany this treasure, knaves, or will you 
 not? Give me an answer here.' And they refused, 
 imless he would, before they started, give each man his 
 share. So Mr. O. waxed very mad, and swore that he 
 would never be served by men who did not trust him, 
 and so went in again ; and that night was spent in gi-eat 
 disquiet, I and those five others keeping watch about th« 
 house of boughs till the rest fell asleep, in their drink. 
 And next morning, when the wine was gone out of 
 them, Mr. 0. asked them whether they would go to the 
 hills with him, and find those negi'oes, and persuade 
 them after all to carry the treasure. To which they 
 agreed after awhile, thinking that so they should save 
 themselves labour ; and went off with Mr. Oxenham, 
 leaving us six who had stood by him to watch the lady 
 and the treasm*e, after he had taken an oath of us that 
 we would deal justly and obediently by him and by 
 her, which God knows, gentlemen, we did. So he 
 parted with much weeping and wailing of the lady, and 
 was gone seven days ; and all that time we kept that 
 lady faithfully and honestly, bringing her the best we 
 could find, and serving her upon om- bended knees, both 
 for her admirable beauty, and for her excellent conditions, 
 for she was certainly of some noble kin, and courteous. 
 
 b2 
 
244 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 and without fear, as if she had been a very princess. 
 But she kept always within the house, which the little 
 maid (God bless her !) did not, but soon learned to play 
 ■VN-ith us and we with her, so that we made great cheer 
 of her, gentlemen, sailor-fashion — for you know we 
 must always have our minions aboard to pet and amuse 
 us — maybe a monkey, or a little dog, or a singing 
 bird, ay, or mice and spiders, if we have nothing better 
 to play withal. And she was wonderful sharp. Sirs, 
 was the little maid, and picked up her English from 
 us fast, calling us jolly mariners, which I doubt but 
 she has forgotten by now, but I hope in God it be not 
 so :" and therewith the good fellow began wiping his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Well, Sir, on the seventh day we six were down by 
 the pinnace clearing her out, and the little maid with 
 us gathering of flowers, and William Penberthy fishing 
 on the bank, about a hundred yards below, when on a 
 sudden he leaps up and runs toward us, cr}Ting, ' Here 
 come our hens' feathers back again with a vengeance ;' 
 and so bade catch up the little maid, and run for the 
 house, for the Spaniards were upon us. 
 
 " Which was too true ; for before we could win the 
 house, there were full eighty shot at our heels, but 
 could not overtake us ; nevertheless, some of them stop- 
 ping, fixed their calivers and let fly, killing one of the 
 Plymouth men. The rest of us escaped to the house, 
 and catching up the lady, fled forth, not knowing whither 
 
OF MPv. JOHN OXENHAM. 245 
 
 we went, while the Spaniards, finding the house and 
 treasure, pursued us no further. 
 
 " For all that day and the next we wandered in great 
 misery, the lady weeping continually, and calling for 
 Mr. Oxenham most piteously, and the little maid like- 
 wise, till with much ado we found the track of our 
 comrades, and went up that as best we might : but at 
 nightfall, by good hap, we met the whole crew coming 
 back, and with them 200 negroes or more, with bows 
 and arrows. At which sight was great joy and em- 
 bracing, and it was a strange thing, Sirs, to see the lady ; 
 for before that she was altogether desperate : and yet she 
 was now a very lioness, as soon as she had got her love 
 again ; and prayed him earnestly not to care for that 
 gold, but to go forward to the North Sea, vowing to 
 him in my hearing that she cared no more for poverty 
 than she had cared for her good name, and then — they 
 being a little apart from the rest — pointed round to the 
 green forest, and said in Spanish — which I suppose they 
 knew not that I understood, — ' See, all around us is 
 Paradise. Were it not enough for you and me to stay 
 here for ever, and let them take the gold or leave it as 
 they will?' 
 
 " To which Mr. Oxenham — ' Those who lived in 
 Paradise had not sinned as we have, and would never 
 have grown old or sick, as we shall.' 
 
 " And she — ' If we do that, there are poisons enough 
 in these woods, by which we may die in each other's 
 
246 TKUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 arms, as would to Heaven we had died seven years 
 agone ! ' 
 
 " But he, — ' Xo, no, my life. It stands upon my 
 honour both to fulfil my bond with these men, whom I 
 have brought hither, and to take home to England at 
 least something of my prize as a proof of my own valour.' 
 
 " Then she smiling — ' Am I not prize enough, and 
 proof enough?' But he would not be so tempted, and 
 turning to us offered us the half of that treasure, if we 
 would go back with him, and rescue it from tlie 
 Spaniard. At which the lady wept and wailed much ; 
 but I took upon myself to comfort her, though I was 
 but a simple mariner, telling her that it stood upon Mr. 
 Oxenham's honour ; and that in England nothing was 
 esteemed so foul as cowardice, or breaking word and 
 troth betwixt man and man ; and tliat better was it for 
 him to die seven times by the Spaniards, than to face 
 at home the scorn of all who sailed the seas. So, after 
 much ado, back they went again ; I and Penberthy, and 
 the three Plymouth men which escaped from the pinnace, 
 keeping the lady as before. 
 
 " Well, Sirs, we waited five days, having made houses 
 of boughs as before, without hearing aught ; and on 
 the sixth we saw coming afar oft' Mr. Oxenham, and 
 with him fifteen or twenty men, who seemed very weary 
 and wounded ; and when we looked for the rest to be 
 behind them, behold there were no more; at which, 
 Sirs, as you may well think, our hearts sank within us. 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 247 
 
 " And Mr. 0., coming nearer, cried out afar off, ' All 
 is lost ! ' and so walked into the camp without a word, 
 and sat himself down at the foot of a great tree with his 
 head between his hands, speaking neither to the lady or 
 to any one, till she very pitifully kneeling before him, 
 cursing herself for the cause of all his mischief, and 
 praying him to avenge himself upon that her tender 
 body, won him hardly to look once upon her, after 
 which (as is the way of vain and unstable man), all 
 between them was as before. 
 
 " But the men were full of curses against the negroes, 
 for their cowardice and treachery ; yea, and against 
 high Heaven itself, which had put the most part of their 
 ammunition into the Spaniards' hands ; and told me, 
 and I believe truly, how they forced the enemy await- 
 ing them in a little copse of great trees, well fortified 
 with barricades of boughs, and having with them our 
 two falcons, which they had taken out of the pinnace. 
 And how ^Ir. Oxenham divided both the English and 
 the negroes into two bands, that one might attack the 
 enemy in front, and the other in the rear, and so set 
 upon them with great fury, and would have utterly 
 driven them out, but that the negroes, who had come on 
 with much howling, like very wild beasts, being sud- 
 denly scared with the shot and noise of the ordnance, 
 turned and fled, leaving the Englishmen alone ; in wliich 
 evil strait Mr. O. fought like a very Guy of Warwick, 
 and I verily believe every man of them likewise ; for 
 
248 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 there was none of tliem who had not his shrewd scratch 
 to show. And indeed, Mr. Oxenham's party had once 
 gotten within the barricades, but the Spaniards being 
 sheltered by the tree trunks (and especially by one 
 mighty tree, which stood, as I remembered it, and re- 
 member it now, borne up two fathoms high upon its 
 own roots, as it were upon arches and pillars), shot at 
 them with such advantage, that they had several slain, 
 and seven more taken alive, only among the roots of 
 that tree. So seeing that they could prevail nothing, 
 having little but their pikes and swords, they were fain 
 to give back ; though Mr. Oxenham swore he would 
 not stir a foot, and making at the Spanish Captain was 
 borne down with pikes, and hardly pulled away by 
 some, who at last reminding him of his lady, persuaded 
 him to come away with the rest. Wliereon the other 
 party fled also : but what had become of them they 
 knew not, for they took another way. And so they 
 miserably drew off, having lost in men eleven killed 
 and seven taken alive, beside five of the rascal negroes 
 who were killed before they had time to run ; and there 
 was an end of the matter.* 
 
 " But the next day, gentlemen, in came some five-and- 
 
 * In the documents from which I have drawn this veracious history, 
 a note is appended to this point of Yeo's story, which seems to me to 
 smack sufficiently of the old Elizabethan seaman, to be inserted at 
 length. 
 
 " All so far, and most after, agreeth with Lopez Vaz his tale, taken 
 from his pocket by my Lord Cumberland's mariners, at the river Plate, 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXEXITAM. 249 
 
 twenty more, being tlie wTCck of the other party, and 
 with them a few negroes ; and these last proved them- 
 selves no honester men than they were brave, for there 
 being great misery among ns English, and every one of 
 us straggling where he could to get food, every day one 
 or more who went out never came back, and that caused 
 a suspicion that the negi'oes had betrayed them to the 
 Spaniards, or may be, slain and eaten them. So these 
 fellows being upbraided with that altogether left us, 
 telling us boldly, that if they had eaten our fellows, we 
 owed them a debt instead of the Spanish prisoners ; and 
 we, in great terror and hunger, went forrv^ard and over 
 
 in the year 1586. But note here his vainglory and falsehood, or else 
 fear of the Spaniard. 
 
 " First, lest it should be seen how great an advantage the Spaniards 
 had, he maketh no mention of the English calivers, nor those two 
 pieces of ordnance which were in the pinnace. 
 
 " Second, he saith nothing of the flight of the Cimaroons : though it 
 was evidently to be gathered from that which he himself saith, that of 
 less than seventy English were slain eleven, and of the negroes but 
 five. And while of the English seven were taken alive, yet of the 
 negroes none. And why, but because the rascals ran ? 
 
 " Thirdly, it is a thing incredible, and out of experience, that eleven 
 English should be slain and seven taken, with loss only of two Spaniards 
 kiUed. 
 
 " Search now, and see, (for I will not speak of mine own small 
 doings,) in all those memorable voyages, which the worthy and learned 
 Mr. Hakluyt hath so painfully collected, and which are to my old age 
 next only to my Bible, whether in all the fights which we have 
 endured with the Spaniards, their loss, even in victory, hath not far 
 exceeded ours. For we are both bigger of body and fiercer of spirit, 
 being even to the poorest of us (thanks to the care of our Olustrious 
 
250 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 the mountains till we came to a little river whicli ran 
 northward, wliich seemed to lead into the Northern Sea; 
 and there Mr. 0. — who, Sirs, I will say, after his first 
 rage was over, behaved himself all through like a 
 valiant and skilful commander — bade us cut down trees 
 and make canoes, to go down to the sea ; which we 
 began to do with great labour and little profit, hewing 
 down trees with our swords, and burning them out with 
 fire, which, after much labour, we kindled : but as we 
 were a-buming out of the first tree, and cutting down 
 
 princes), the best fed men of Europe, the most trained to feats of 
 strength and use of weapons, and put our trust also not in any Virgin 
 or Saints, dead rags and bones, painted idols which have no breath 
 in their mouths, or St. Bartholomew medals and such devil's remem- 
 brancers : but in the only true God and our Lord Jesus Christ, in 
 whom whosoever trusteth, one of them shall chase a thousand. So 
 I hold, having had good experience ; and say, if they have done it 
 once, let them do it again, and kill their eleven to our two, with any 
 weapon they will, save paper bullets blown out of Fame's lying 
 trumpet. Yet I have no quarrel with the poor Portugal ; for I doubt 
 not but friend Lopez Vaz had looking over his shoulder as he wrote 
 some mighty black velvet Don, with a name as long as that Don Ber- 
 naldino Delgadillo de Avellaneda who set forth lately his vainglorious 
 libel of lies concei-ning the last and fatal voyage of my dear friends 
 Sir F. Drake and Sir John Hawkins, who rest in peace, having finished 
 their labours, as would God I rested. To whose shameless and un- 
 speakable lying my good friend Mr. Henry Savile of this county 
 did most pithily and wittily reply, stripping the ass out of his lion's 
 skin ; and feir Thomas Baskerville, general of the fleet, by my advice, 
 send him a cartel of defiance, offering to meet him with choice of 
 weapons, in any indifferent kingdom of equal distance from this realm; 
 which challenge he hath pi-udently put in his pipe, or rather rolled it 
 up for one of his Spanish cigarros, and smoked it, and, I doubt not, 
 found it foul in the mouth." 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENIIAM. 251 
 
 of another, a great partj of negroes came upon us, and 
 "with much friendly show bade us flee for our lives, for 
 the Spaniards were upon us in gi-eat force. And so we 
 were up and away again, hardly able to drag our legs 
 after us for hanger and weariness, and the broiling heat. 
 And some were taken, (God help them !) and some fled 
 with the negroes, of whom what became God alone 
 knoweth ; but eight or ten held on with the Captain, 
 among whom was I, and fled downward toward the sea 
 for one day ; but afterw^ards finding, by the noise in the 
 woods, that the Spaniards were on the track of us, we 
 turned up again toward the inland, and coming to a 
 cliff, climbed up over it, drawing up the lady and the 
 little maid with cords of liana (which hang from those 
 trees as honeysuckle does here, but exceeding stout and 
 long, even to fifty fathoms) ; and so breaking the track, 
 hoped to be out of the way of the enemy. 
 
 " By which, nevertheless, we only increased our misery. 
 For two fell from tliat cliff, as men asleep for very weari- 
 ness, and miserably broke their bones; and others, 
 whether by the great toil, or sun- strokes, or eating of 
 strange berries, fell sick of fluxes and fevers ; where was 
 no drop of water, but rock of pumice stone as bare as 
 the back of my hand, and full, moreover, of great cracks, 
 black and without bottom, over which we had not 
 strength to lift the sick, but were fain to leave them 
 there aloft, in the sunshine, like Dives in his torments, 
 crying aloud for a drop of water to cool their tongues ; 
 
252 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 and every man a great stinking vulture or two sitting 
 by him, like an ugly black fiend out of the pit, waiting 
 till the poor soul should depart out of the corpse : but 
 nothing could avail, and for the dear life we must down 
 again and into the woods, or be burned up alive upon 
 those rocks. 
 
 " So getting down the slope on the further side, we 
 came into the woods once more, and there wandered for 
 many days, I know not how many ; our shoes being 
 gone, and our clothes all rent off us with brakes and 
 briars. And yet how the lady endured all was a 
 marvel to see; for she went barefoot many days, and 
 for clothes was fain to wrap herself in Mr. Oxenham's 
 cloak ; while the little maid went all but naked : but 
 ever she looked still on Mr. Oxenham, and seemed to 
 take no care as long as he was by, comforting and 
 cheering us all with pleasant words ; yea, and once 
 sitting down under a great fig-tree, sang us all to 
 sleep with very sweet music ; yet, waking about mid- 
 night, I saw her sitting still upright, weeping very 
 bitterly ; on whom. Sirs, God have mercy, for she was 
 a fair and a brave jewel. 
 
 " And so, to make few words of a sad matter, at last 
 there were none left but Mr. Oxenham and the lady 
 and the little maid, together with me and William 
 Penberthy of jMarazion, my good comrade. And Mr. 
 Oxenham always led the lady, and Penberthy and I 
 carried the little maid. And for food we had fruits, 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 253 
 
 such as we could find, and water we got from the leaves 
 of certain lilies which grew on the bark of trees, which 
 I found by seeing the monkeys drink at them ; and the 
 little maid called them monkey-cups, and asked for 
 them continually, making me climb for them. And 
 so we wandered on, and upward into very high moun- 
 tains, always fearing lest the Spaniards should track 
 us with dogs, which made the lady leap up often 
 in her sleep, crying that the bloodhounds were upon 
 her. And it befel upon a day, that we came into a 
 great wood of ferns (which grew not on the ground 
 like ours, but on stems as big as a pinnace's mast, 
 and the bark of them was like a fine meshed net, 
 very strange to see), where was very pleasant shade, 
 cool and green ; and there, gentlemen, we sat down 
 upon a bank of moss, like folk desperate and fore- 
 done, and every one looked the other in the face 
 for a long while. After which I took of the bark of 
 those fems, for I must needs be doing something to 
 drive away thought, and began to plait slippers for the 
 little maid. 
 
 " And as I was plaiting, Mr. Oxenham said, ' What 
 hinders us from dying like men, every man falling on 
 his own sword?' To which I answered that I dare 
 not ; for a wise woman had prophesied of me. Sirs, that 
 I should die at sea, and yet neither by water or battle, 
 wherefore I did not think right to meddle with the 
 Lord's purposes. And William Penberthy said, ' Tha't 
 
254 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 he would sell his life, and that dear, but never give it 
 away.' But the lady said, ' Ah, how gladly would I 
 die! but then la paouvre garse,' which is in French 
 * the poor maid,' meaning the little one. Then Mr. 
 Oxenham fell into a very great weeping, a weakness I 
 never saw in him before or since ; and with many tears 
 besought me never to desert that little maid, Avhatever 
 might befal; which I promised, swearing to it like a 
 heathen, but would, if I had been able, have kept it like 
 a Christian. But on a sudden there was a great cry 
 in the wood, and coming through the trees on all sides 
 Spanish arquebusiers, a hundred strong at least, and 
 negroes with them, who bade us stand or they would 
 shoot. William Penberthy leapt up, crying ' Treason !' 
 and running upon the nearest negro ran him through, 
 and then another, and then falling on the Spaniards, 
 fought manfully till he was borne down with pikes, and 
 so died. But I, seeing nothing better to do, sate still 
 and finished my plaiting. And so we were all taken, 
 and I and Mr. Oxenham bound with cords ; but the 
 soldiers made a litter for the lady and child, by com- 
 mandment of Senor Diego de Trees, their commander, 
 a very courteous gentleman. 
 
 " Well, Sirs, we were brought down to the place 
 where the house of boughs had been by the river-side ; 
 there we went over in boats, and found waiting for us 
 certain Spanish gentlemen, and among others one old 
 and ill-favoured man, gi*cy-bearded and bent, in a suit 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 255 
 
 of black velvd:, who seemed to be a great man among 
 them. And if you will believe me, Mr. Leigh, that was 
 none other than the old man with the gold falcon at his 
 breast, Don Francisco Xararte by name, whom you 
 found aboard of the Lima ship. And had you known 
 as much of him as I do, or as Mr. Oxenham did either, 
 you had cut him up for sharks' bait, or ever you let 
 the cur ashore again. 
 
 " Well, Sirs, as soon as the lady came to shore, that 
 old man ran upon her sword in hand, and would have 
 slain her, but some there held him back. On which 
 he turned to, and reviled with every foul and spiteful 
 word wliich he could tliink of, so that some there bade 
 him be silent for shame ; and Mr. Oxenham said, ' It 
 is worthy of you, Don Francisco, thus to trumpet abroad 
 your own disgrace. Did I not tell you years ago that 
 you were a cur ; and are you not pro\4ng my words 
 for me ?' 
 
 " He answered, ' English dog, would to Heaven I had 
 never seen you !^ 
 
 " And Mr. Oxenham, ' Spanish ape, would to Heaven 
 that I had sent my dagger through your herring-ribs 
 when you past me behind St. Ildegonde's church, eight 
 years last Easter-eve.' At which the old man turned 
 pale, and then began again to upbraid the lady, vowing 
 that he would have her burnt alive, and other devilish 
 words, to which she answered at last — 
 
 " * Would that you had burnt me alive on my 
 
256 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 wedding morning, and spared me eight ye^ars of misery !' 
 And he— 
 
 " ' Misery? Hear the witch, Senors! Oh, have I not 
 pampered her, heaped with jewels, clothes, coaches, 
 what not ? The saints alone know what I have spent 
 on her. What more would she have of me ?' 
 
 " To which she answered only but this one word, 
 ' Fool !' but in so terrible a voice, though low, that they 
 who were about to laugh at the old pantaloon, were more 
 minded to wxep for her. 
 
 " ' Fool !' she said again, after a while, * I Avill waste 
 no words upon you. I would have driven a dagger to 
 yoiu' heart months ago, but that I was loth to set you 
 free so soon from your gout and yom' rheumatism. 
 Selfish and stupid, know when you bought my body 
 from my parents, you did not buy my soul ! Farewell, 
 my love, my life ! and farewell, Senors ! May you be 
 more merciful to your daughters than my parents were 
 to me !' And so, catching a dagger from the girdle of one 
 of the soldiers, smote herself to the heart, and fell dead 
 before them all. 
 
 " At which Mr. Oxenham smiled, and said, ' That was 
 worthy of us both. If you will unbind my hands, Senors, 
 I shall be most happy to copy so fair a schoolmistress.' 
 
 " But Don Diego shook his head, and said, 
 
 '"It were well for you, valiant Seilor, were I at liberty 
 to do so ; but on questioning those of your sailors, whom 
 I have already taken, I cannot hear that you have any 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 257 
 
 letters of licence, either from the Queen of England, 
 or any other potentate. I am compelled, therefore, to 
 ask you, whether this is so ; for it is a matter of life and 
 death.' 
 
 " To which Mr. Oxenham answered merrily, ' That so 
 it was : but that he was not aware that any potentate's 
 licence was required to permit a gentleman's meeting 
 his lady love ; and that as for the gold which they had 
 taken, if they had never allowed that fresh and fair 
 young May to he forced into marrying that old January, 
 he should never have meddled with their gold : so that 
 was rather their fault than his.' And added, that if he 
 was to be hanged, as he supposed, the only favour 
 which he asked for was a long drop and no priests. 
 And all the while,, gentlemen, he still kept his eyes 
 fixed on the lady's corpse, till he was led away with me, 
 while all that stood by, God reward them for it, lamented 
 openly the tragical end of those two sinful lovers. 
 
 " And now. Sirs, what befel me after that matters 
 little; for I never saw Captain Oxenham again, nor 
 ever shall in this life." 
 
 *' He was hanged, then?" 
 
 " So I heard* for certain tlie next year, and with him 
 the gunner and sundry more : but some were given 
 away for slaves to the Spaniards, and may be alive 
 now, unless, like me, they have fallen into the cruel 
 clutches of the Inquisition. For the Inquisition now, 
 gentlemen, claims the bodies and souls of all heretics 
 
 VOL. I. S 
 
258 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 all over the world (as the devils told me with their own 
 lips, when I pleaded that I was no Spanish subject) ; 
 and none that it catches, whether peaceable merchants, 
 or shipwrecked mariners, but must turn or burn." 
 " But how did you get into the Inquisition?" 
 " Why, Sir, after we were taken, we set forth to go 
 down the river again ; and the old Don took the little 
 maid with him in one boat, (and bitterly she screeched 
 at parting from us, and from the poor dead coi-pse,) and 
 Mr. Oxenham with Don Diego de Grees in another, 
 and I in a third. And fr*om the Spaniards I learnt 
 that we were to be taken doAvn to Lima, to the Vice- 
 roy : but that the old man lived hard by Panama, and 
 was going sti-aight back to Panama forthwith with 
 the little maid. But they said, ' It will be well for her 
 if she ever gets there, for the old man swears she is 
 none of his, and would have left her behind him in the 
 woods now, if Don Diego had not shamed him out of it.' 
 And when I heard that, seeing that there was nothing 
 but death before me, I made up my mind to escape ; 
 and the very first night, Sirs, by God's help, I did it, 
 and went southward away into the forest, avoiding the 
 tracks of the Cimaroons, till I came to an Indian town. 
 And there, gentlemen, I got more mercy from heathens 
 than ever I had from Christians ; for when they found 
 that I was no Spaniard, they fed me and gave me a 
 house, and a wife, (and a good wife slie was to me,) and 
 painted me all over in patterns, as you see ; and because 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 259 
 
 I had some knowledge of surgery and blood-letting, 
 and my fleams in my pocket, which were worth to me 
 a fortune, I rose to great honour among them, though 
 they taught me more of simples than ever I taught them 
 of surgery. So I lived with them merrily enough, being 
 a very heathen like them, or indeed worse, for they 
 worshipped their Xemes, but I nothing. And in time 
 my wife bare me a child ; in looking at whose sweet face, 
 gentlemen, I forgot Mr. Oxenham and his little maid, 
 and my oath, ay, and my native land also. Wherefore 
 it was taken from me, else had I lived and died as the 
 beasts whicli perish ; for one night, after we were all 
 lain down, came a noise outside the town, and I starting 
 up saw armed men and calivers shining in the moon- 
 light, and heard one read in Spanish, with a loud voice, 
 some fool's sermon, after their custom when they hunt 
 the poor Indians, how God had given to St. Peter the 
 dominion of the whole earth, and St. Peter again the 
 Indies to the Catholic king; wherefore, if they would 
 all be baptized and serve the Spaniard, they should 
 have some monkey's allowance or other of more kicks 
 than pence ; and if not, then have at them with fire and 
 sword : but I dare say your worships know that devilish 
 trick of theirs better than I." 
 
 *' I know it, man. Go on." 
 
 " Well — no sooner were the words spoken, than, 
 without waiting to hear what the poor innocents within 
 would answer, (though that mattered little, for they 
 
260 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 understood not one word of it,) what do the villains but 
 let fly right into the town with their calivers, and then 
 rush in, sword in hand, killing pell-mell all they met, 
 one of which shots, gentlemen, passing through the 
 doorway, and close by me, struck my poor wife to the 
 heart, that she never spoke word more. I, catching 
 up the babe from her breast, tried to run : but when 
 I saw the town full of them, and their dogs with them 
 in leashes, which was yet worse, I knew all was lost, and 
 sat down again by the corpse with the babe on my knees, 
 waiting the end, like one stunned and in a dream ; for 
 now I thought God from whom I had fled had surely 
 found me out, as he did Jonah, and the punishment 
 of all my sins was come. Well, gentlemen, they 
 dragged me out, and all the young men and women, 
 and chained us together by the neck ; and one, catching 
 the pretty babe out of my anns, calls for water and 
 a priest, (for they had their shavelings with them,) and 
 no sooner was it christened, than, catching the babe by 
 the heels, he dashed out its brains, — oh ! gentlemen, 
 gentlemen ! — against the ground, as if it had been a 
 kitten ; and so did they to several more innocents that 
 night, after they had christened them; saying it was 
 best for them to go to heaven while they were still sure 
 thereof; and so marched us all off for slaves, leaving the 
 old folk and the wounded to die at leisure. But when 
 morning came, and they knew by my skin that I was 
 no Indian, and by my speech that I was no Spaniard, 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXEXHAM. 261 
 
 they began threatening me with torments, till I con- 
 fessed that I was an Englishman, and one of Oxenham's 
 crew. At that says the leader, ' Then you shall to 
 Lima, to hang by the side of your Captain the pirate ; 
 by which I first knew that my poor Captain was certainly 
 gone : but alas for me ! the priest steps in and claims me 
 for his booty, calling me Lutheran, heretic, and enemy of 
 God ; and so, to make short a sad story, to the Inqui- 
 sition at Carthagena I went, where what I suficred, 
 gentlemen, were as disgustful for you to hear, as un- 
 manly for me to complain of: but so it was, that being 
 twice racked, and having endured the water-torment 
 as best I could, I was put to the scarpines, whereof 
 I am, as you see, somewhat lame of one leg to this 
 day. At which I could abide no more, and so, wretch 
 that I am ! denied my God, in hope to save my life ; 
 which indeed 1 did, but little it profited me ; for though 
 I had turned to their superstition, I must have two 
 hundred stripes in the public place, and then go to the 
 galleys for seven years. And there, gentlemen, ofttimes 
 I thought that it had been better for me to have been 
 burned once and for all : but you know as well as I 
 what a floating hell of heat and cold, hunger and thirst, 
 stripes and toil, is every one of those accursed craft. In 
 which hell, nevertheless, gentlemen, I found the road 
 to heaven, — I had almost said heaven itself. For it 
 fell out, by God's mercy, that my next comrade was 
 an Englishman like myself, a young man of Bristol, 
 
262 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 who, as he told me, had been some manner of factor 
 on board poor Captain Barker's ship, and had been 
 a preacher among the Anabaptists here in England. 
 And, oh ! Sir Richard Grenvile, if that man had done 
 for you what he did for me, you would never say 
 a word against those who serve the same Lord, because 
 they don't altogether hold with you. For from time 
 to time. Sir, seeing me altogether despairing and 
 furious, like a wild beast in a pit, he set before me in 
 secret earnestly the sweet promises of God in Christ, — 
 who says, ' Come to me, all ye that are heavy laden, and 
 I will refresh you ; and though your sins be as scarlet, 
 they shall be as white as snow,' — till all that past 
 sinful life of mine looked like a dream when one 
 awaketh, and I forgot all my bodily miseries in the 
 misery of my soul, so did I loathe and hate myself for 
 my rebellion against that loving God who had chosen 
 me before the foundation of the world, and come to seek 
 and save me when I was lost ; and falling into very 
 despair at the bm'den of my heinous sins, knew no 
 peace until I gained sweet assurance that my Lord had 
 hanged my burden upon his cross, and Avashed my 
 sinful soul in his most sinless blood. Amen ! " 
 
 And Sir Richard Grenvile said Amen also. 
 
 " But, gentlemen, if that sweet youth won a soul to 
 Christ, he paid as dearly for it as ever did saint of God. 
 For after a three or four months, when I had been all 
 that while in sweet converse with him, and I may say 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 263 
 
 in heaven in the midst of hell, there came one night to 
 the barranco at Lima, where we were kept when on 
 shore, three black devils of the Holy Office, and carried 
 him off without a word, only saying to me, ' Look that 
 yom* turn come not next, for we hear that you have had 
 much talk with the villain.' And at these words I was 
 so struck cold with terror that I swooned right away ; 
 and verily, if they had taken me there and then, I 
 should have denied my God again, for my faith was but 
 young and weak : but instead, they left me aboard the 
 galley for a few months more, (that was a whole voyage 
 to Panama and back,) in daily dread lest I should find 
 myself in their cruel claws again — and then nothing for 
 me, but to bui-n as a relapsed heretic. But when we 
 came back to Lima, the officers came on board again, 
 and said to me, ' That heretic has confessed nought 
 against you, so we will leave you for this time: but 
 because you have been seen talking with him so much, 
 and the Holy Office suspects your conversion to be but 
 a rotten one, you are adjudged to the galleys for the 
 rest of your life in perpetual servitude.' " 
 
 " But what became of him?" asked Amyas. 
 
 " He was burned. Sir, a day or two before we got to 
 Lima, and five otliers with him at the same stake, of 
 whom two were Englishmen ; old comrades of mine, as 
 I guess." 
 
 " Ah !" said Amyas, " we heard of that when we 
 were off Lima ; and they said too, that there were six 
 
264 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 more lying still in prison, to be burnt in a few days. 
 If we had had our fleet with us, (as we should have had 
 if it had not been for John Winter,) we would have 
 gone in and rescued them all, poor ^\Tetches, and sacked 
 the town to boot : but what could we do with one 
 ship?" 
 
 " Would to God you had, Sir ; for the story was true 
 enough ; and among them, I heard, were two young 
 ladies of quality and their confessor, who came to their 
 ends for reproving out of Scripture the filthy and loath- 
 some living of those parts, which, as I saw well enough 
 and too well, is liker to Sodom than to a Christian 
 town : but God will avenge His saints, and their sins. 
 Amen." 
 
 " Amen :" said Sir Richard : " but on with thy tale, 
 for it is as strange as ever man heard." 
 
 '' Well, gentlemen, when I heard that I must end 
 my days in that galley, I was for a while like a mad- 
 man : but in a day or two there came over me, I know 
 not how, a full assurance of salvation, both for this life 
 and the life to come, such as I had never had before ; 
 and it was revealed to me, (I speak the truth, gentlemen, 
 before Heaven,) that now I had been tried to the utter- 
 most, and that my deliverance was at hand. 
 
 " And all the way up to Panama (that was after we 
 had laden the 'Cacafuogo') I cast in my mind how to 
 escape, and found no way : but just as I was beginning 
 to lose heart again, a door was opened by the Lord's 
 
OF MR. JOnN OXENHAM. 265 
 
 own hand; for (I know not why) we were marched 
 across from Panama to Nombre, which had never hap- 
 pened before, and there put all together into a great 
 barranco close by the quay-side, shackled, as is the 
 fashion, to one long bar that ran the whole length of 
 the house. And the very first night that we were there, 
 I, looking out of the window, spied, lying close aboard 
 of the quay, a good sized caravel well armed and just 
 loading for sea ; and the land breeze blew off very 
 strong, so that the sailors were laying out a fi*esh warp 
 to hold her to the shore. And it came into my mind, 
 that if we were aboard of her, we should be at sea in 
 five minutes ; and looking at the quay, I saw all the sol- 
 diers who had guarded us scattered about drinking and 
 gambling, and some going into taverns to refresh them- 
 selves after their journey. That was just at sundown ; 
 and half an hour after, in comes the gaoler to take a 
 last look at us for the night, and his keys at his girdle. 
 Whereon, Sirs, (whether by madness, or whether by the 
 spirit which gave Samson strength to rend the lion,) 
 I rose against him as he passed me, without fore- 
 thought or treachery of any kind, chained though I was, 
 caught him by the head, and threw him there and then 
 against the wall, that he never spoke word after ; and 
 then with his keys freed myself and every soul in that 
 room, and bid them follow me, vowing to kill any 
 man who disobeyed my commands. They followed, as 
 men astounded and leaping out of night into day 
 
266 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 and death into life, and so aboard that caravel 
 and out of the harbour, (the Lord only knows how, 
 who blinded the eyes of the idolaters,) with no more 
 hurt than a few chance-shot from the soldiers on the 
 quay. But my tale has been over long already, gentle- 
 men. — " 
 
 " Go on till midnight, my good fellow, if you will." 
 " Well, Sirs, they chose me for Captain, and a certain 
 Genoese for lieutenant, and away to go. I would fain have 
 gone ashore after all, and back to Panama to hear news 
 of the little maid : but that would have been but a fool's 
 errand. Some wanted to turn pirates : but I, and the 
 Genoese too, who was a prudent man, though an evil 
 one, persuaded them to run for England and get employ- 
 ment in the Netherland wars, assm-ing them that there 
 would be no safety in the Spanish main, when once our 
 escape got wind. And the more part being of one 
 mind, for England we sailed, watering at the Barbados 
 because it was desolate ; and so eastward toward the 
 Canaries. In which voyage what we endured (being 
 taken by long calms), by scm-vy, calentures, hunger, 
 and thirst, no tongue can tell. Many a time were we 
 glad to lay out sheets at night to catch the dew, and 
 suck them in the morning ; and he that had a noggin 
 of rain-water out of the scuppers was as much sought to 
 as if he had been Adelantado of all the Indies ; till of 
 a hundred and forty poor wretches a hundred and ten 
 were dead, blaspheming God and man, and above all, 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 267 
 
 me and the Genoese for taking the Europe voyage, as 
 if I had not sins enough of my own akeady. And last 
 of all, when we thought ourselves safe, we were wi'ecked 
 by south-westers on the coast of Brittany, near to Cape 
 Race, from which but nine souls of us came ashore with 
 their lives ; and so to Brest, where I found a Flushinger 
 who carried me to Falmouth ; and so ends my tale, in 
 which if I have said one word more or less than truth, 
 I can wish myself no worse, than to have it all to 
 undergo a second time." 
 
 And his voice, as he finished, sank from very weari- 
 ness of soul ; while Sir Richard sat opposite him in 
 silence, his elbows on the table, his cheeks on his 
 doubled fists, looking him through and through with 
 kindling eyes. Xo one spoke for several minutes ; and 
 then — 
 
 " Amyas, you have heard this story ? You believe 
 it?" 
 
 "Every word, Sir, or I should not have the heart of 
 a Christian man." 
 
 "So do I. Anthony!" 
 
 The butler entered. 
 
 " Take this man to the buttery ; clothe him com- 
 fortably, and feed him with the best; and bid the 
 knaves treat him as if he were their own father." 
 
 But Yeo lingered. 
 
 " If I might be so bold as to ask your worship a 
 favour? — " 
 
68 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 " Anything in reason, my brave fellow." 
 
 " If your worship could put me in the way of another 
 adventure to the Indies?" 
 
 " Another ! Hast not had enough of the Spaniards 
 already?" 
 
 " Never enough, Sir, while one of the idolatrous 
 tyrants is left unhanged," said he, with a right bitter 
 smile. " But it's not for that only, Sir : but my little 
 maid — Oh, Sir! my little maid, that I swore to Mr. 
 Oxenham to look to, and never saw her from that day 
 to this ! I must find her. Sir, or I shall go mad, I 
 believe. Not a night but she comes and calls to me in 
 my dreams, the poor darling ; and not a morning but 
 when I wake there is my oath lying on my soul, like 
 a great black cloud, and I no nearer the keeping of it. 
 I told that poor young minister of it when we were 
 in the galleys together ; and he said oaths were oaths, 
 and keep it I must ; and keep it I will. Sir, if you'll 
 but help me." 
 
 " Have patience, man. God will take as good care 
 of thy little maid as ever thou wilt." 
 
 " I know it. Sir. I know it : but faith 's weak, Sir ! 
 and oh ! if she were bred up a Papist and an idolater ; 
 wouldn't lier blood be on my head then. Sir? Sooner 
 than that, sooner than that, I'd be in tlie Inquisition 
 again to-morrow, I would !" 
 
 " My good fellow, there are no adventures to the 
 Indies forward now : but, if you want to fight Spaniards, 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 269 
 
 liere is a gentleman will show you the way. Amyas, 
 take him with you to Ireland. If he has learnt half 
 the lessons God has set him to learn, he ought to stand 
 you in good stead." 
 
 Yeo looked eagerly at the young giant. 
 
 " Will you have me, Sir ? There's few matters I 
 can't turn my hand to : and maybe you'll be going to 
 the Indies again, some day, eh ? and take me with you ? 
 I'd serve your turn well, though I say it, either for 
 gunner or for pilot. I know every stone and tree 
 from Nombre to Panama, and all the ports of both the 
 seas. You'll never be content, I'll warrant, till you've 
 had another turn along the gold coasts, will you now?" 
 
 Amyas laughed, and nodded ; and the bargain was 
 concluded. 
 
 So out went Yeo to eat, and Amyas having received 
 his despatches, got ready for his journey home. 
 
 " Go the short way over the moors, lad ; and send 
 back Gary's grey when you can. You must not lose an 
 hoiu", but be ready to sail the moment the wind goes 
 about." 
 
 So they started : but as Amyas was getting into the 
 saddle, he saw that there was some stir among the 
 servants, who seemed to keep carefully out of Yeo's 
 way, whispering and nodding mysteriously ; and just 
 as his foot was in the stirrup, Anthony, the old butler, 
 plucked him back. 
 
 " Dear father alive, Mr. Amyas !" whispered he; "and 
 
270 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 you ben't going by the moor-road all alone with that 
 chapr 
 
 "Why not, then? I'm too big for him to eat, 1 
 reckon." 
 
 "Oh, ^Ir. Amyas ! he's not right, I tell you ; not 
 company for a Christian — to go forth with creatures as 
 has flames of fire in their inwards ; 'tis temptation of 
 Providence, indeed, then, it is." 
 
 " Tale of a tub !" 
 
 " Tale of a Christian, Sir. There was two boys pig- 
 minding, seed him at it down the hill, beside a maiden 
 that was taken mazed (and no wonder, poor soul !) and 
 l}dng in screeching asterisks now doAvn to the mill — 
 you ask as you go by — and saw the flames come out of 
 the mouth of mun, and the smoke out of mun's nose like 
 a vire-drake, and the roaring of mun like the roaring of 
 ten thousand bulls. Oh, Sir ! and to go with he after 
 dark over moor ! 'Tis the devil's devices. Sir, against 
 you, because you'm going against his sarvants the Pope 
 of Room and the Spaniard ; and you'll be Pixy-led, sure 
 as life, and locked into a bog, you will, and see mun 
 vanish away to fire and brimstone, like a jack-o'-lantern. 
 Oh, have a care, then, have a care ! " 
 
 And the old man wrung his hands, while Amyas, 
 bursting -^^Hth laughter, rode off down the park with 
 the unconscious Yco at his stirnip, chatting away about 
 the Indies, and delighting Amyas more and more by 
 his shrewdness, high spirit, and rough eloquence. 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 271 
 
 They had gone ten miles or more ; the day began to 
 draw in, and the western wind to sweep more cold and 
 cheerless every moment, when Amyas, knowing that 
 there was not an inn hard by around for many a mile 
 ahead, took a pull at a certain bottle which Lady 
 Grenvile had put into his holster, and then offered Yeo 
 a pull also. 
 
 He declined ; he had meat and drink too about him, 
 Heaven be praised ! 
 
 "Meat and drink? fall to then, man, and don't 
 stand on manners." 
 
 Whereon Yeo, seeing an old decayed willow by 
 a brook, went to it and took therefrom some touch- 
 wood, to which he set a-light with his knife and a 
 stone, while Amyas watched, a little puzzled and 
 startled, as Yeo's fiery reputation came into his mind. 
 Was he really a Salamander- Sprite, and going to warm 
 his inside by a meal of burning tinder? But now 
 Yeo, in his solemn methodical way, pulled out of his 
 bosom a brown leaf, and began rolling a piece of it 
 up neatly to the size of his little finger; and then, 
 putting the one end into his mouth and the other on 
 the tinder, sucked at it till it was a-light ; and drink- 
 ing down the smoke, began puffing it out again at his 
 nostrils with a grunt of deepest satisfaction, and re- 
 sumed his dog-trot by Amyas's side, as if he had been 
 a walking chimney. 
 
 On which Amyas burst into a loud laugh, and cried. 
 
272 TRUE AND TRAGICAL HISTORY 
 
 *' Why, no wonder they said you breathed fire? Is 
 not that the Indians' tobacco ?" 
 
 " Yea, verily, Heaven be praised ! but did you never 
 see it before?" 
 
 " Never, though we heard talk of it along the coast ; 
 but we took it for one more Spanish lie. Humph — 
 well, live and learn ! " 
 
 " Ah, Sir, no lie, but a blessed truth, as I can tell, 
 who have ere now gone in the strength of this weed 
 three days and nights without eating; and therefore. 
 Sir, the Indians always carry it with them on their 
 war-parties : and no wonder ; for when all things were 
 made none was made better than this ; to be a lone 
 man's companion, a bachelor's friend, a hungry man's 
 food, a sad man's cordial, a wakeful man's sleep, and 
 a chilly man's fire, Sir ; while for stanching of wounds, 
 purging of rheum, and settling of the stomach, there's 
 no herb like mito it mider the canopy of heaven." 
 
 The truth of which eulogium Amyas tested in after 
 years, as shall be fully set forth in due place and time. 
 But " Mark in the meanwhile, '^ says one of the vera- 
 cious chroniclers from whom I draw these facts, writing 
 seemingly in the palmy days of good Queen Anne, 
 and "not having" (as he says) "before his eyes the 
 fear of that misocapnic Solomon James I. or of any 
 other lying Stuart," " that not to South Devon, but to 
 North ; not to Sir Walter Raleigh, but to Sir Amyas 
 Leigh ; not to the banks of Dart, but to the banks of 
 
OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 273 
 
 Torridge, does Europe owe the day-spring of tlie latter 
 age, that age of smoke which shall endure and thrive, 
 when the age of brass sliall have vanished like those 
 of iron and of gold ; for whereas Mr. Lane is said to 
 have brought home that divine weed (as Spenser well 
 names it) from Virginia in the year 1584, it is hereby 
 indisputable that full four years earlier, by the bridge 
 of Baxworthy in the Torridge moors (which all true 
 smokers shall hereafter visit as a hallowed spot and 
 point of pilgTimage), first twinkled that fiery beacon 
 and beneficent lodestar of Bidefordian commerce, to 
 spread hereafter from port to port and peak to peak, 
 like the watch-fires which proclaimed the coming of 
 the Armada or the fall of Troy, even to the shores of 
 the Bosphorus, the peaks of the Caucasus, and the 
 farthest isles of the Malayan sea ; while Bideford, me- 
 tropolis of tobacco, saw her Pool choked with Virginian 
 traders, and the pavement of her Bridgeland Street 
 groaning beneath the savoury bales of roll Trinidado, 
 leaf, and pudding ; and her grave burghers, bolstered 
 and blocked out of their own houses by the scarce less 
 savoury stock-fish casks which filled cellar, parlour, and 
 attic, were fain to sit outside the door, a silver pipe in 
 every strong right hand, and each left hand chinking 
 cheerfully the doubloons deep lodged in the am'iferous 
 caverns of their trunkhose ; while in those fairy-rings 
 of fragrant mist, which circled round their contem- 
 plative brows, flitted most pleasant visions of Wiltshire 
 VOL. I. T 
 
274 HISTORY OF MR. JOHN OXENHAM. 
 
 farmers jogging into Sherborne fair, their heaviest shil- 
 lings in their pockets, to buy (unless old Aubrey lies) 
 the lotus-leaf of Torridge for its weight in silver, and 
 draw from thence, after the example of the Caciques of 
 Dariena, supplies of inspiration much needed, then as 
 now, in those Gothamite regions. And yet did these 
 improve, as Englishmen, upon the method of those 
 heathen savages; for the latter (so Salvation Yeo re- 
 ported as a truth, and Dampier's surgeon Mr. Wafer 
 after him), when they will deliberate of war or policy, 
 sit round in the hut of the chief; where being placed, 
 enter to them a small boy with a cigarro of the bigness 
 of a rolling-pin, and puffs the smoke thereof into the 
 face of each warrior, from the eldest to the youngest; 
 while they, putting their hand fimnel-A^-ise round their 
 mouths, draw into the sinuosities of the brain that more 
 than Delphic vapom* of prophecy ; which boy presently 
 falls down in a swoon, and being dragged out by the 
 heels and laid by to sober, enter another to puff at the 
 sacred cigarro, till he is dragged out likewise ; and so 
 on till the tobacco is finished, and the seed of wisdom 
 has sprouted in every soul into the tree of meditation, 
 bearing the flowers of eloquence, and in due time the 
 fruit of valiant action." With which quaint fact, (for 
 fact it is, in spite of the bombast,) I end the present 
 chapter. 
 
CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 
 
 " It is virtue, yea virtue, gentlemen, that maketli gentlemen ; that 
 maketh the poor rich, the base-Vjom noble, the subject a sove- 
 reign, the deformed oeautifLil, the sick whole, the weak strong, 
 the most miserable most happy. There are two principal and 
 peculiar gifts in the nature of man, knowledge and reason ; the 
 one commandeth, and the other obeyeth : these things neither 
 the whirling wheel of fortune can change, neither the deceitful 
 cavillings of worldlings separate, neither sickness abate, neither 
 age abolish." — Lilly's Euphues, 1586. 
 
 It now falls to my lot to write of the foundation of that 
 most chivalrous brotherhood of the Rose, which after 
 a few years made itself not only famous in its native 
 county of Devon, but formidable, as will be related 
 hereafter, both in Ireland and in the Netherlands, 
 in the Spanish Main and the heart of South America. 
 And if this chapter shall seem to any Quixotic and 
 fantastical, let them recollect that the generation who 
 spoke and acted thus in matters of love and honour 
 were, nevertheless, practised and valiant soldiers, and 
 
 T 2 
 
276 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 prudent and crafty politicians ; that lie who wrote the 
 Arcadia was at the same time, in spite of his youth, one 
 of the subtlest diplomatists of Europe ; that the poet 
 of the Faery Queene was also the author of The State 
 of Ireland ; and if they shall quote against me with a 
 sneer Lilly's Euphues itself, I shall only answer by 
 asking — Have they ever read it ? For if they have done 
 so, I pity them if they have not found it, in spite of 
 occasional tediousness and pedantry, as brave, righteous, 
 and pious a book as man need look into ; and wish for 
 no better proof of the nobleness and virtue of the Eliza- 
 bethan age, than the fact that "Euphues" and the 
 " Arcadia" were the two popular romances of the day. 
 It may have suited the purposes of Sir Walter Scott, in 
 his cleverly drawn Sir Piercie Shaft on, to ridicule the 
 Euphuists, and that affectatara comitatem of tlie tra- 
 velled English of which Languet complains : but over 
 and above the anachronism of the whole character (for, 
 to give but one instance, the Euphuist knight talks of 
 Sidney's quarrel with Lord Oxford at least ten years 
 before it happened), we do deny that Lilly's book 
 could, if read by any man of common sense, produce 
 such a coxcomb, whose spiritual ancestors would rather 
 have been Gabriel Harvey and Lord Oxford, — if indeed 
 the former has not maligned the latter, and ill-tempered 
 Tom Nash maligned the maligner in his turn. 
 
 But, indeed, there is a double anachronism in Sir 
 Piercie; for he docs not even belong to the days of 
 
OF THE ROSK WAS FOUNDED. 277 
 
 Sidney, but to those worse times which began in the 
 latter years of Elizabeth, and after breaking her mighty 
 heart, had full licence to bear their crop of fools' heads 
 in the profligate days of James. Of them, perhaps, here- 
 after. And in the meanwhile, let those who have not read 
 "Euphues," believe that, if they could train a son after 
 the pattern of his Ephoebus, to the great saving of their 
 own money and his virtue, all fathers, even in these 
 money-making days, would rise up and call them 
 blessed. Let us rather open our eyes, and see in these 
 old Elizabeth gallants our own ancestors, showing forth 
 with the luxuriant wildness of youth, all the virtues 
 which still go to the making of a true Englishman. 
 Let us not only see in their commercial and military 
 daring, in their political astuteness, in their deep reve- 
 rence for law, and in their solemn sense of the great 
 calling of the English nation, the antetypes or rather 
 the examples of our own : but let us confess that 
 their chivalry is only another garb of that beautiful 
 tenderness and mercy which is now, as it was then, the 
 twin sister of English valour ; and even in their often 
 extravagant fondness for Continental manners and lite- 
 rature, let us recognise that old Anglo-Norman teach- 
 ableness and wide-heartedness, which has enabled us to 
 profit by the wisdom and the civilization of all ages 
 and of all lands, without prejudice to our own distinc- 
 tive national character. 
 
 And so I go to my story, which, if any one dislikes, 
 
278 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 he has but to turn the leaf till he finds pasturage which 
 suits him better. 
 
 Amyas could not sail the next day, or the day after ; 
 for the southwester freshened, and blew three-parts of 
 a gale dead into the bay. So having got the Mary 
 Grenvile down the river into Appledore pool, ready to 
 start with the first shift of wind, he went quietly home ; 
 and when his mother started on a pillion behind the 
 old serving man to ride to Clovelly, where Frank lay 
 wounded, he went in with her as far as Bideford, and 
 there met, coming down the High Street, a procession of 
 horsemen headed by Will Gary, who, clad cap-a-pi^ in 
 shining armour, sword on thigli, and lielmet at saddle- 
 bow, looked as gallant a young gentleman as ever Bide- 
 ford dames peeped at from door and window. Behind 
 him, upon country ponies, came four or five stout serving 
 men, carrying his lances and baggage, and their own long- 
 bows, swords, and bucklers ; and behind all, in a horse- 
 litter, to Mrs. Leigh's great joy, Master Frank himself. 
 He deposed that his wounds were only flesh-wounds, 
 the dagger having turned against his ribs ; that he must 
 see the last of his brother; and that with her good leave 
 he would not come home to Burrough, but take up his 
 abode with Gary in the Ship Tavern, close to the Bridge- 
 foot. This he did forthwith, and settling himself on a 
 couch, held his lev^e there in state, mobbed by all the 
 gossips of the town, not without white fibs as to who 
 had brought him into that sorry plight. 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 279 
 
 But in the meanwhile, he and Amyas concocted a 
 scheme, which was put into effect the next day (being 
 market-daj) ; first by the innkeeper, who began under 
 Amyas's orders a bustle of roasting, boiling, and frying, 
 unparalleled in the annals of the Ship Tavern ; and next 
 by Amyas himself, who, going out into the market, in- 
 vited as many of his old schoolfellows, one by one apart, 
 as Frank had pointed out to him, to a merry supper and 
 a " rowse" thereon consequent ; by which crafty scheme, 
 in came each of Rose Salterne's gentle admirers, and 
 found himself, to his considerable disgust, seated at the 
 same table with six rivals, to none of whom had he 
 spoken for the last six months. However, all were too 
 well bred to let the Leighs discern as much ; and they 
 (though, of com'se, they knew all) settled their guests, 
 Frank on his couch lying at the head of the table, and 
 Amyas taking the bottom ; and contrived, by filling all 
 mouths with good things, to save them the pain of 
 speaking to each other till the wine should have loosened 
 their tongues and warmed their hearts. In the mean- 
 while both Amyas and Frank, ignoring the silence 
 of their guests with the most provoking good-humour, 
 chatted, and joked, and told stories, and made them- 
 selves such good company, that Will Gary, who always 
 found merriment infectious, melted into a jest, and then 
 into another, and finding good-humour far more pleasant 
 than bad, tried to make Mr. Coffin laugh, and only made 
 him bow, and to make Mr. Fortescue laugh, and only 
 
280 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 made him fro\vn ; and unabashed nevertheless, began 
 playing his light artillery upon the waiters, till he drove 
 them out of the room bursting with laughter. 
 
 So far so good. And when the cloth was drawn, and 
 sack and sugar became the order of the day, and 
 " Queen and Bible" had been duly drunk with all the 
 honours, Frank tried a fresh move, and — 
 
 '' I have a toast, gentlemen — here it is. ' The gentle- 
 men of the Irish wars ; and may Ireland never be with- 
 out a St. Leger to stand by a Fortescue, a Fortescue 
 to stand by a St. Leger, and a Chichester to stand by 
 both.' " 
 
 Which toast of course involved the drinking the 
 healths of the three representatives of those families, 
 and their returning thanks, and paying a compliment 
 each to the other's house : and so the ice cracked a little 
 further ; and young Fortescue proposed the health of 
 " Amy as Leigh, and all bold mariners ; " to which 
 Amy as replied by a few blunt kindly words, " that he 
 wished to know no better fortune than to sail round 
 the world again with the present company as fellow 
 adventm-ers, and so give the Spaniards another taste of 
 the men of Devon." 
 
 And by this time, the wine going down sweetly, 
 caused the lips of them that were asleep to speak ; till 
 the ice broke up altogether, and every man began talk- 
 ing like a rational Englishman to the man who sat next 
 him. 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 281 
 
 *' And now, gentlemen," said Frank, who saw that it 
 was the fit moment for the grand assault which he had 
 planned all along ; "let me give you a health which 
 none of you, I dare say, will refuse to drink with heart 
 and soul as well as with lips ; — the health of one whom 
 beauty and virtue have so ennobled, that in their light 
 the shadow of lowly birth is unseen ; — the health of one 
 whom I would proclaim as peerless in loveliness, were 
 it not that every gentleman here has sisters, who might 
 well challenge from her the girdle of Venus : and yet 
 what else dare I say, while those same lovely ladies 
 who, if they but use their o-wii miiTors, must needs be 
 far better judges of beauty than I can be, have in my 
 own hearing again and -again assigned the palm to 
 her ? Surely, if the goddesses decide among themselves 
 the question of the golden apple, Paris himself must 
 vacate the judgment-seat. Gentlemen, your hearts, I 
 doubt not, have already bid you, as my unworthy lips 
 do now, to drink ' The Rose of Torridge.' " 
 
 If the Rose of Torridge herself had walked into 
 the room, she could hardly have caused more blank 
 astonishment than Frank's bold speech. Every guest 
 turned red, and pale, and red again, and looked at the 
 other, as much as to say, " What right has any one but 
 I to drink her? Lift your glass, and I will dash it 
 out of yoiu* hand : " but Frank, with sweet effrontery, 
 drank, " The health of the Rose of Torridge, and a 
 double health to that worthy gentleman, whosoever 
 
282 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 he may be, whom she is fated to honour with her 
 love ! " 
 
 " Well done, cunning Frank Leigh ! " cried blunt 
 Will Gary ; " none of us dare quarrel with you now, 
 however much we may sulk at each other. For there's 
 none of us, I'll warrant, but thinks that she likes him 
 the best of all ; and so we are bound to believe that 
 you have drunk our healths all round." 
 
 " And so I have : and what better thing can you do, 
 gentlemen, than to drink each other's healths all round 
 likewise ; and so show yourselves true gentlemen, true 
 Christians, ay, and true lovers ? For what is love (let 
 me speak freely to you, gentlemen and guests) ; w^hat 
 is love, but the very inspiration of that Deity whose 
 name is Love ? Be sure that not without reason did the 
 ancients feign Eros to be the eldest of the gods, by 
 whom the jarring elements of chaos were attimed into 
 harmony and order. How then shall lovers make him 
 the father of strife ? Shall Psyche wed with Cupid, to 
 bring forth a cockatrice's egg ? or the soul be filled with 
 love, the likeness of the immortals, to bum with envy 
 and jealousy, division and distrust? True, the rose has 
 its thorn : but it leaves poison and stings to the nettle. 
 Cupid has his arrow : but he hurls no scoii^ions. Venus is 
 awful when despised, as the daughters of Proetus found : 
 but her handmaids are the Graces, not the Furies. 
 Surely he who loves aright will not only find love 
 lovely, but become himself lovely also. I speak not to 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 283 
 
 reprehend you, gentlemen ; for to jou (as your piercing 
 wits have already perceived, to judge by your honour- 
 able blushes) my discourse tends ; but to point you, if 
 you will but permit me, to that rock which I myself 
 have, I know not by what Divine good hap, attained ; 
 if, indeed, I have attained it, and am not about to be 
 washed off again by the next tide." 
 
 Frank's rapid and fantastic oratory, utterly unex- 
 pected as it was, had as yet left their wits no time to 
 set their tempers on fire ; but when, weak from his 
 woimds, he paused for breath, there was a haughty 
 murmur from more than one young gentleman, who 
 took his speech as an impertinent interference with each 
 man's right to make a fool of himself; and Mr. Coffin, 
 who had sat quietly bolt upright, and looking at the 
 opposite wall, now rose as quietly, and with a face 
 which tried to look utterly unconcerned, was walking 
 out of the room : another minute, and Lady Bath's 
 prophecy about the feast of the Lapithae might have 
 come true. 
 
 But Frank's heart and head never failed him. 
 
 "Mr. Coffin!" said he, in a tone which compelled 
 that gentleman to turn round, and so brought him 
 under the power of a face which none could have beheld 
 for five minutes and borne malice, so imploring, tender, 
 earnest was it. " My dear Mr. Coffin ! If my earnest- 
 ness has made me forget even for a moment the bounds 
 of courtesy, let me entreat you to forgive me. Do not 
 
284 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 add to my heavy gi'iefs, lieavy enough already, the grief 
 of losing a friend. Only hear me patiently to tlie end 
 (generously, I know, you will liear me) ; and then, if 
 you are still incensed, I can but again entreat your 
 forgiveness a second time." 
 
 ^Ir, Coffin, to tell the truth, had at that time never 
 been to Com-t ; and he was, therefore, somewhat jealous 
 of Frank, and his Com*t talk, and his Court clothes, and 
 his Court company ; and moreover, being the eldest of 
 the guests, and only two years younger than Frank 
 himself, he was a little nettled at being classed in the 
 same category with some who were scarce eighteen. 
 And if Frank had given the least hint which seemed to 
 assume his own superiority, all had been lost : but 
 when, instead thereof, he sued in forma pauperis^ and 
 threw himself upon Coffin's mercy, the latter, who was 
 a true-hearted man enough, and after all had known 
 Frank ever since either of them could walk, had nothing 
 to do but to sit down again and submit, while Frank 
 went on more earnestly than ever. 
 
 "Believe me; believe me, Mr. Coffin, and gentlemen 
 all, I no more arrogate to myself a superiority over you, 
 than does the sailor hurled on shore by the surge fancy 
 himself better than his comrade who is still battling 
 with the foam. For I too, gentlemen, — let me confess 
 it, that by confiding in you I may, perhaps, win you 
 to confide in me, — have loved, ay and do love, where 
 you love also. Do not start. Is it a matter of wonder 
 
OF THE R08E WAS FOUNDED. 285 
 
 that the sun which has dazzled you has dazzled me ; 
 that the loadstone which has drawn you has drawn me ? 
 Do not frown, either, gentlemen. 1 have learnt to love 
 you for loving what I love, and to admire you for ad- 
 miring that which I admire. Will you not try the 
 same lesson ; so easy, and, when learnt, so blissful V 
 What breeds more close communion between subjects, 
 than allegiance to the same Queen '? between brothers, 
 than duty to the same father '? between the devout, than 
 adoration for the same Deity ? And shall not worship 
 for the same beauty be likewise a bond of love between 
 the worshippers ? and each lover see in his rival not an 
 enemy, but a fellow-sufferer? You smile, and say in 
 your hearts, that though all may worship, but one can 
 enjoy ; and that one man's meat must be the poison of 
 the rest. Be it so, though I deny it. Shall we antici- 
 pate our own doom, and slay oui'selves for fear of dying'? 
 Shall we make ourselves unworthy of her from our very 
 eagerness to win her, and show ourselves her faithful 
 knights, by cherishing envy, — most unknightly of all 
 sins ? Shall we dream with the Italian or the Spaniard 
 that we can become more amiable in a lady's eyes, by 
 becoming hateful in the eyes of God and of each other ? 
 Will she love us the better, if we come to her with 
 hands stained in the blood of him whom she loves better 
 than us ? Let us recollect oiu'selves rather, gentlemen ; 
 and be sm*e that our only chance of winning her, if she 
 be worth -winning, is to will what she wills, honour 
 
286 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 whom she honours, love whom she loves. If there is to 
 be rivalry among us, let it be a rivaliy in nobleness, an 
 emulation in virtue. Let each try to outstrip the other 
 in loyalty to his Queen, in valour against her foes, in 
 deeds of courtesy and mercy to the afflicted and opprest ; 
 and thus our love will indeed prove its own divine 
 origin, by raising us nearer to those gods whose gift it 
 is. But yet I show you a more excellent way, and that 
 is charity. Why should we not make this common 
 love to her, whom I am unworthy to name, the sacra- 
 ment of a common love to each other ? Why should 
 we not follow the heroical examples of those ancient 
 knights, who having but one grief, one desire, one 
 goddess, held that one heart was enough to contain 
 that grief, to nourish that desire, to worship that divi- 
 nity ; and so uniting themselves in friendship till they 
 became but one soul in two bodies, lived only for each 
 other in living only for her, vowing, as faithful wor- 
 shippers, to abide by her decision, to find their own 
 bliss in hers, and whomsoever she esteemed most worthy 
 of her love, to esteem most worthy also, and count 
 themselves, by that her choice, the bounden servants of 
 him whom their mistress had condescended to advance 
 to the dignity of her master? — as I (not without hope 
 that I shall be outdone in generous strife) do here pro- 
 mise to be the faithful friend, and, to my ability, the 
 hearty servant, of him who shall be honoured with the 
 love of the Rose of Torridge." 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 287 
 
 He ceased, and there was a pause. 
 
 At last young Fortescue spoke. 
 
 " 1 may be paying you a left-lianded compliment, 
 Sir : but it seems to me that you are so likely, in that 
 case, to become your own faithful friend and hearty 
 servant (even if you have not borne oflf the bell already 
 while we have been asleep), that the bargain is hardly fail- 
 between such a gay Italianist and us country swains." 
 
 " You undervalue yourself and your country, my dear 
 Sir. But set your mind at rest. I know no more of 
 that lady's mind than you do : nor shall I know. For the 
 sake of my own peace, I have made a vow neither to 
 see her, nor to hear, if possible, tidings of her, till three 
 full years are past. Dixi ! " 
 
 Mr. Coffin rose. 
 
 " Gentlemen, I may submit to be outdone by Mr. 
 Leigh in eloquence, but not in generosity ; if he leaves 
 these parts for three years, I do so also." 
 
 " And go in charity with all mankind," said Gary. 
 " Give us your hand, old fellow. If you are a Coffin, 
 you were sawn out of no wishy-washy elm-board, but 
 right heart-of-oak. I am going, too, as Amyas here 
 can tell, to Ireland away, to cool my hot liver in a bog, 
 like a Jack-hare in March. Come, give us thy neif, 
 and let us part in peace. I was minded to have fought 
 thee this day — " 
 
 " I should have been most happy. Sir," said Coffin. 
 
 — " But now I am all love and charity to mankind. 
 
288 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 Can I have the pleasure of begging pardon of the world 
 in general, and thee in particular? Does any one wish 
 to pull my nose ; send me an eiTand ; make me lend him 
 five pounds ; ay, make me buy a horse of him, which 
 will be as good as giving him ten ? Come along ! Join 
 hands all round, and swear eternal friendship, as brothers 
 of the sacred order of the — of what ? Frank Leigh ? 
 Open thy mouth, Daniel, and christen us!" 
 
 " The Eose !" said Frank, quietly, seeing that his 
 new love-philtre was working well, and determined to 
 strike while the iron was hot, and carry the matter too 
 far to carry it back again. 
 
 " The Eose!" cried Cary, catching hold of Coflfin's 
 hand with his right, and Fortescue's with his left. 
 " Come, Mr. Coffin ! Bend, sturdy oak I ' Woe to the 
 stifFnecked and stout-hearted,' says Scripture." 
 
 And somehow or other, whether it was Frank's 
 chivalrous speech, or Cary's fan, or Amyas's good wine, 
 or the nobleness which lies in every young lad's heart, 
 if their elders will take the trouble to call it out, 
 the whole party came in to terms one by one, shook 
 hands all round, and vowed on the hilt of Amyas's 
 sword, to make fools of themselves no more, at least by 
 jealousy : but to stand by each other and by their lady- 
 love, and neither grudge nor grumble, let her dance 
 with, flirt with, or marry with, whom she would ; and 
 in order that the honoiu' of their peerless dame, and the 
 brotherhood which was named after her, might be 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 289 
 
 spread through all lands, and equal that of Angelica or 
 Isonde of Brittany, they would each go home, and ask 
 their father's leave (easy enough to obtain in those 
 brave times) to go abroad wheresoever there were 
 " good wars," to emulate there the courage and the 
 courtesy of Walter Manny and Gonzalo Femandes, 
 Bayard and Gaston de Foix. ^\"hy not ? Sidney was 
 the hero of Europe at five-and-twenty ; and why not 
 they? 
 
 And Frank watched and listened with one of his 
 quiet smiles, (his eyes, as some folks' do, smiled even 
 when his lips were still,) and only said ; " Gentlemen, 
 be sure that you will never repent this day." 
 
 " Kepent?" said Gary. '' I feel already as angelical 
 as thou lookest. Saint Silvertongue. What was it that 
 sneezed ? — the cat ?" 
 
 " The lion, rather, by the roar of it," said Amyas, 
 making a dash at the arras behind him. " Why, here 
 is a doorway here ! and " 
 
 And rushing under the arras, through an open door 
 behind, he returned, dragging out by the head Mr. John 
 Brimblecombe. 
 
 Who was Mr. John Brimblecombe ? 
 
 If you have forgotten him, you have done pretty 
 nearly what every one else in the room had done. But 
 you recollect a certain fat lad, son of the school- 
 master, whom Sir Kichard punished for talebearing three 
 years before, by sending him, not to Coventry, but to 
 
 VOL. I. u 
 
290 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 Oxford. That was the man. He was now one-and- 
 twenty, and a bachelor of Oxford, where he had learnt 
 such things as were taught in those days, with more or 
 less success ; and he was now hanging about Bideford 
 once more, intending to return after Christmas and read 
 divinity, that he might become a parson, and a shepherd 
 of souls in his native land. 
 
 Jack was in person exceedingly like a pig : but not like 
 every pig : not in the least like the Devon pigs of those 
 days, which, I am sorry to say, were no more shapely 
 than the true Irish greyhound who pays Pat's "rint" 
 for him ; or than the lanky monsters who wallow in 
 German rivulets, while the village swine-herd, beneath 
 a shady lime, forgets his fleas in the melody of a Jew's- 
 harp, — strange mud-coloured creatures, four feet high 
 and four inches thick, which look as if they had passed 
 their lives, as a collar of Oxford brawn is said to do, 
 between two tight boards. Such were then the pigs of 
 Devon: not to be compared with the true wild de- 
 scendant of Noah's stock, high-withered, furry, gTizzled, 
 game- flavoured little rooklers, whereof many a sownder 
 still grunted about Swinley down and Braunton woods, 
 Clovelly glens and Bursdon moor. Not like these, nor 
 like the tame abomination of those barbarous times, was 
 Jack : but prophetic in face, figm-e and complexion, 
 of Fisher Hobbs and the triumphs of science. A 
 Fisher Hobbs' pig of twelve stone, on his hind-legs 
 — tliat was what he was, and nothing else ; and if you 
 
OF THE KOSE WAS FOUNDED. 291 
 
 do not know, reader, what a Fisher Hobbs is, you 
 know nothing about pigs, and deserve no bacon for 
 breakfast. But such was Jack. The same plump mul- 
 berry complexion, garnished with a few scattered black 
 bristles ; the same sleek skin, looking always as if it 
 was upon the point of bursting ; the same little toddling 
 legs ; the same dapper bend in the small of the back ; 
 the same cracked squeak ; the same low upright fore- 
 head, and tiny eyes ; the same round self-satisfied jowl ; 
 the same charming sensitive little cocked nose, always 
 on the look-out for a savoury smell, — and yet, while 
 watching for the best, contented with the worst ; a pig 
 of self-helpful and serene spirit, as Jack was, and 
 therefore, like him, fatting fast while other pigs' ribs 
 are staring through their skins. 
 
 Such was Jack ; and lucky it was for him that such 
 he was ; for it was little that he got to fat him at Oxford, 
 in days when a servitor meant really a serv^ant-student ; 
 and wistfully that day did his eyes, led by his nose, 
 survey at the end of the Ship Inn passage, the prepa- 
 rations for Amyas's supper. The innkeeper was a 
 friend of his; for, in the first place, they had lived 
 within three doors of each other all their lives ; and 
 next, Jack was quite pleasant company enough, beside 
 being a learned man and an Oxford scholar, to be 
 asked in now and then to the innkeeper's private parlour, 
 when there were no gentlemen there, to crack his little 
 joke and tell his little story, sip the leavings of the 
 
 u 2 
 
292 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 guests' sack, and sometimes help the host to eat the 
 leavings of their supper. And it was, perhaps, with 
 some such hope that Jack trotted off round the corner 
 to the Ship that very afternoon ; for that faithful little 
 nose of his, as it sniffed out of a back window of the 
 school, had given him warning of Sabean gales, and 
 scents of Paradise, from the inn kitchen below; so he 
 went roimd, and asked for his pot of small ale (his only 
 luxury), and stood at the bar to drink it; and looked 
 inward with his little twinkling right eye, and sniffed 
 inward with his little curling right nostril, and beheld, 
 in the kitchen beyond, salad in stacks and faggots; 
 salad of lettuce, salad of cress and endive, salad of boiled 
 coleworts, salad of pickled coleworts, salad of angelica, 
 salad of scurvy- wort, and seven salads more ; for potatoes 
 were not as yet, and salads were during eight months 
 of the year the only vegetable. And on the dresser, 
 and before the fire, whole hecatombs of fragrant victims, 
 which needed neither frankincense nor myrrh ; Clovelly 
 herrings and Torridge salmon, Exmoor mutton and 
 Stow venison, stubble geese and woodcocks, cm'lew and 
 snipe, hams of Hampshire, chitterlings of Taunton, and 
 botargos of Cadiz, such as PantagTuel himself might 
 have devoured. And Jack eyed them, as a ragged boy 
 eyes the cakes in a pastrycook's window ; and thought of 
 the scraps from the commoners' dinner, which were his 
 wages for cleaning out the hall ; and meditated deeply 
 on the unequal distribution of human bliss. 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 293 
 
 "Ah, ^Ir. Brimblecombe ! " said the host, bustling 
 out with knife and apron to cool himself in the pas- 
 sage. " Here are doings ! Xine gentlemen to supper !" 
 
 " Nine ! Are they going to eat all that ?" 
 
 " Well, I can't say — that Mr. Amyas is as good as 
 three to his trencher : but still there's crumbs, Mr. 
 Brimblecombe, crumbs ; and AVaste not want not is my 
 doctrine ; so you and I may have a somewhat to stay 
 our stomachs, about an eight o'clock." 
 
 "Eight?" said Jack, looking wistfully at the clock. 
 " It's but four now. Well, it's kind of you, and perhaps 
 I'll look in." 
 
 "Just you step in now, and look to this venison. 
 There's a breast ! you may lay your two fingers into 
 the say there, and not get to the bottom of the fat. 
 That's Sir Richard's sending. He's all for them Leighs, 
 and no wonder, they'm brave lads, surely ; and there's 
 a saddle-o'-mutton ! I rode twenty miles for mun yester- 
 day, I did, over beyond Barnstaple ; and five year old, 
 Mr. John, it is, if ever five years was ; and not a tooth 
 to mun's head, for I looked to that ; and smelt all the 
 way home like any apple ; and if it don't ate so soft 
 as ever was scald cream, never you call me Thomas 
 Burman." 
 
 "Humph!" said Jack. "And that's their dinner. 
 Well, some are bom with a silver spoon in their 
 mouth." 
 
 " Some be bom with roast beef in tlieir mouths, and 
 
294 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 plum-pudding in their pocket to take away the taste o' 
 mun ; and that's "better than empty spunes, eh ?" 
 
 " For them that get it," said Jack. " But for them 
 that don't — " And with a sigh he returned to his small 
 ale, and then lingered in and out of the inn, watching 
 the dinner as it w^ent into the best room where the 
 guests were assembled. 
 
 And as he lounged there, Amyas went in, and saw 
 him, and held out his hand, and said, — 
 
 " Hillo, Jack! how goes the world? How you've 
 grown !" and passed on ; — what had Jack Brimblecombe 
 to do with Eose Salterne ? 
 
 So Jack lingered on, hovering around the fragrant 
 smell like a fly round a honey-pot, till he found himself 
 invisibly attracted, and as it were led by the nose, out 
 of the passage into the adjoining room, and to that side 
 of the room where there was a door ; and once there he 
 could not help hearing what passed inside; till Kose 
 Salterne' s name fell on his ear. So, as it was or- 
 dained, he was taken in the fact. And now behold him 
 brought in red-hand to judgment, not without a kick or 
 two from the wrathful foot of Amyas Leigh. Whereat 
 there fell on him a storm of abuse, w^hich, for the 
 honour of that gallant company, I shall not give in 
 detail ; but which abuse, strange to say, seemed to have 
 no effect on the impenitent and unabashed Jack, who, 
 as soon as he could get his breath, made answer 
 fiercely, amid much puffing and blowing. 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 295 
 
 "What business have I here? As much as any of 
 you. If you had asked me in, I would have come : 
 but as you didn't, I came without asking." 
 
 "You shameless rascal!" said Cary. " Come if you 
 were asked, where there was good wine? I'll warrant 
 you for that!" 
 
 "Why," said Amyas, "no lad ever had a cake at 
 school, but he would dog him up one street and down 
 another all day for the crumbs, the trencher-scraping 
 spaniel!" 
 
 "Patience, masters!" said Frank. "That Jack's is 
 somewhat of a gnathonic and parasitic soul, or stomach, 
 all Bideford apple-women know : but I suspect more 
 than Deus Venter has brought him hither." 
 
 " Deus eaves-dropping then. We shall have the 
 whole story over the town by to-morrow," said another ; 
 beginning at that thought to feel somewhat ashamed of 
 his late enthusiasm. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Frank ! You were always the only one 
 that would stand up for me ! Deus Venter, quotha ? 
 'Twas Deus Cupid, it was ! " 
 
 A roar of laughter followed this announcement. . 
 
 "What?" asked Frank; "was it Cupid, then, who 
 sneezed approval to our love. Jack, as he did to that of 
 Dido and ^neas ?" 
 
 But Jack went on desperately. 
 
 " I was in the next room, drinking of my beer. 
 I couldn't help that, could I? And then I heard her 
 
296 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 name ; and I couldn't help listening then. Flesh and 
 blood couldn't." 
 
 " Nor fat either ! " 
 
 " No, nor fat, Mr. Gary. Do you suppose fat men 
 haven't souls to be saved, as well as thin ones, and 
 hearts to burst, too, as well as stomachs ? Fat ! Fat 
 can feel, I reckon, as well as lean. Do you suppose 
 there's nought inside here but beer?" 
 
 And he laid his hand, as Drayton might have said, on 
 that stout bastion, hornwork, ravelin, or demilune, which 
 formed the outworks to the citadel of his purple isle 
 of man. 
 
 " Nought but beer? — Cheese, I suppose? 
 
 "Bread?" 
 
 " Beef? " 
 
 " Love ! " cried Jack. " Yes, Love ! — Ay, you laugh ; 
 but my eyes are not so grown up with fat but what 
 I can see what's fair as well as you." 
 
 " Oh Jack, naughty Jack, dost thou heap sin on sin, 
 and luxury on gluttony ?'' 
 
 " Sin? If I sin, you sin: I tell you, and I don't 
 care who knows it, I've loved her these three years as 
 well as e'er a one of you, I have. I've thought o' 
 nothing else, prayed for nothing else, God forgive me ! 
 And then you laugh at me, because Pm a poor parson's 
 son, and you fine gentlemen : God made us both, I 
 reckon. You ? — you make a deal of giving her up to- 
 day. Why, it's what I've done for three miserable 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 297 
 
 years as ever poor sinner spent ; ay, from the first day 
 I said to myself, ' Jack, if you can't have that pearl, 
 you^ll have none ; and that you can't have, for it's meat 
 for your masters : so conquer or die.' And I couldn't 
 conquer. I can't help lo\'ing her, worshipping her, no 
 more than you ; and I will die : but you needn't laugh 
 meanwhile at me that have done as much as you, and 
 will do again." 
 
 " It is the old tale," said Frank to himself; '' whom 
 will not love transform into a hero?'' 
 
 And so it was. Jack's squeaking voice was firm and 
 manly, his pig^s eyes flashed very fire, his gestures were 
 so free and earnest, that the ungainliness of his figui*e 
 was forgotten ; and when he finished with a violent burst 
 of tears. Frank, forgetting his wounds, sprang up and 
 caught him by the hand. 
 
 " John Brimblecombe, forgive me ! Gentlemen, if we 
 are gentlemen, we ought to ask his pardon. Has he 
 not shown already more chivalry, more self-denial, and 
 therefore more true love, than any of us ? My friends, 
 let the fierceness of affection, which we have used as an 
 excuse for many a sin of our own, excuse his listening 
 to a conversation in which he well deserved to bear 
 a part." 
 
 " Ah," said Jack, " you make me one of your brother- 
 hood ; and see if I do not dare to suffer as much as any of 
 you ! You laugh ? Do you fancy none can use a sword 
 unless he has a baker's dozen of quarterings in his 
 
298 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 arms, or that Oxford scholars know only how to handle 
 a pen?" 
 
 " Let us try his metal," said St. Leger. " Here's my 
 sword, Jack ; draw. Coffin ! and have at him." 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Coffin, looking somewhat disgusted 
 at the notion of fighting a man of Jack's rank: but 
 Jack caught at the weapon offered to him. 
 
 " Give me a buckler, and have at any of you !^' 
 
 " Here's a chair bottom," cried Gary ; and Jack, 
 seizing it in his left, flourished his sword so fiercely, 
 and called so loudly to Coffin to come on, that all pre- 
 sent found it necessary, unless they Avished blood to be 
 spilt, to turn the matter off with a laugh : but Jack 
 would not hear of it. 
 
 " Nay : if you will let me be of your brotherhood, 
 well and good ; but if not, one or other I will fight ; and 
 that's flat." 
 
 " You see, gentlemen," said Amyas, " we must admit 
 him, or die the death ; so we needs must go when Sir 
 Urian di'ives. Come up, Jack, and take the oaths. 
 You admit him, gentlemen ?" 
 
 " Let me but be your chaplain," said Jack, " and 
 pray for your luck when you're at the wars. If I do 
 stay at home in a country curacy, 'tis not much that 
 you need be jealous of me with her, I reckon," said 
 Jack, with a pathetical glance at his own stomach. 
 
 " Sia \" said Cary : " but if he be admitted, it must 
 be done according to the solemn forms and ceremonies 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 299 
 
 in such cases provided. Take him into the next room, 
 Amyas, and prepare him for his initiation." 
 
 " What's that?" asked Amyas, puzzled by the word. 
 But judging from the corner of Will's eye, that initiation 
 was Latin for a practical joke, he led forth his victim 
 behind the arras again, and waited five minutes while 
 the room was being darkened, till Frank's voice called 
 to him to bring in the neophyte. 
 
 " John Brimblecombe," said Frank, in a sepulchral 
 tone, " you cannot be ignorant, as a scholar and bachelor 
 of Oxford, of that dread sacrament by which Catiline 
 bound the soul of his fellow-conspirators, in order that 
 both by the daring of the deed he might have proof of 
 their sincerity, and by the horror thereof astringe their 
 souls by adamantine fetters, and Novem-Stygian oaths, 
 to that wherefrom hereafter the weakness of the flesh 
 might shrink. Wherefore, Jack ! we too have de- 
 termined following that ancient and classical example, 
 to fill, as he did, a bowl with the life-blood of our most 
 heroic selves, and to pledge each other therein, with 
 vows whereat the stars shall -tremble in their spheres, 
 and Luna, blushing, veil her silver cheeks. Your blood 
 alone is wanted to fill up the goblet. Sit down, John 
 Brimblecombe, and bare your arm ! " 
 
 " But, Mr. Frank! — " said Jack, who was as super- 
 stitious as any old Tv-ife, and, what with the darkness 
 and the discourse, already in a cold perspiration. 
 
 " But me no buts ! or depart as recreant, not by the 
 
300 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 door like a man, "but up the chimney like a flitter- 
 mouse." 
 
 "But, Mr. Frank!" 
 
 " Thy vital juice, or the chimney ! Choose !" roared 
 Gary in his ear. 
 
 " Well, if I must :" said Jack ; "but it 's desperate 
 hard that because you can't keep faith without these 
 barbarous oaths, I must take them too, that have kept 
 faith these three years without any." 
 
 At this pathetic appeal, Frank nearly melted : but 
 Amyas and Gary had thrust the victim into a chair, 
 and all was prepared for the sacrifice. 
 
 " Bind his eyes, according to the classic fashion," 
 said Will. 
 
 " Oh no, dear Mr. Gary ; I'll shut them tight enough, 
 I waiTant : but not with your dagger, dear Mr. William 
 — sui'e, not with your dagger? I can't afford to lose 
 blood, though I do look lusty — I can't indeed ; sm-e, a 
 pin would do — I've got one here, to my sleeve, some- 
 where — Oh !" 
 
 " See the fount of generous juice ! Flow on, fair 
 stream. How he bleeds! — pints, quarts! Ah, this 
 proves him to be in earnest ! " 
 
 " A true lover's blood is always at his fingers' 
 ends." 
 
 " He does not grudge it; of course not. Eh, Jack? 
 What matters an odd gallon for her sake?^^ 
 
 " For her sake? Nothing, nothing! Take my life. 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 301 
 
 if you will : but — Oh, gentlemen, a surgeon, if you love 
 me ! I'm going off — I'm fainting !'' 
 
 " Drink, then, quick ; drink and swear ! Pat his 
 back, Gary. Courage, man ! it will be over in a minute. 
 Now, Frank I—'' 
 
 And Frank spoke — 
 
 " If plighted troth I fail, or secret speech reveal, 
 May Cocytean ghosts around my pillow squeal ; 
 While Ate's brazen claws distriuge my spleen in sunder, 
 And drag me deep to Pluto's keep, 'mid brimstone, smoke, and 
 thunder ! 
 
 " Placetne, domine?^^ 
 
 " Placet ! " squeaked Jack, who thought himself at 
 the last gasp, and gulped down full three-quarters of the 
 goblet which Gary held to his lips. 
 
 " Ugh — Ah — Puh ! Mercy on us ! It tastes mighty 
 like wine ! '^ 
 
 " A proof, my virtuous brother," said Frank, " first, of 
 thy abstemiousness, which has thus forgotten what wine 
 tastes like ; and next, of thy pure and heroical affection, 
 by which thy carnal senses being exalted to a higher 
 and supra-lunar sphere, like those Platonical daemoni- 
 zomenoi and enthusiazomenoi, (of whom Jamblichus 
 says that they were insensible to wounds and flame, and 
 much more, therefore, to evil savours,) doth make even 
 the most nauseous draught redolent of that celestial 
 fragrance, which proceeding, Jack ! from thine own 
 
302 HOW THE NOBLE BROTHERHOOD 
 
 inward virtue, assimilates by sympathy even outward 
 accidents unto its own harmony and melody ; for fra- 
 grance is, as has been said well, the song of flowers, 
 and sweetness, the music of apples — Ahem ! Go in 
 peace, thou hast conquered ! " 
 
 " Put him out of the door, Will," said Amyas, " or 
 he will swoon on our hands." 
 
 " Give him some sack,^' said Frank. 
 
 " Not a blessed drop of yours. Sir," said Jack. " I 
 like good wine as well as any man on earth, and see as 
 little of it : but not a drop of yours. Sirs, after your 
 frumps and flouts about hanging -on and trencher- 
 scraping. When I first began to love her, I bid good- 
 bye to all dirty tricks ; for I had some one then for 
 whom to keep myself clean." 
 
 And so Jack was sent home, with a pint of good red 
 Alicant wine in him (more, poor fellow, than he had 
 tasted at once in his life before) ; while the rest, in high 
 glee with themselves and the rest of the world, re- 
 lighted the candles, had a right merry evening, and 
 parted like good friends and sensible gentlemen of 
 Devon, thinking (all except Frank), Jack Brimblecombe 
 and his vow the merriest jest they had heard for many 
 a day. After which they all departed : Amyas and 
 Gary to Winter's squadron ; Frank (as soon as he could 
 travel) to the Com't again ; and with him young Basset, 
 whose father Sir Arthur, being in London, procm-ed for 
 
OF THE ROSE WAS FOUNDED. 303 
 
 him a page's place in Leicester's household. Fortescue 
 and Chichester went to their brothers in Dublin; St. 
 Leger to his uncle the Marshal of Munster ; Coffin joined 
 Champemoun and Norris in the Netherlands; and so 
 the Brotherhood of the Rose was scattered far and wide, 
 and Mistress Salteme was left alone with her looking- 
 glass. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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