by Anonymous
CHAPTER V.
It was near midnight when the English cruizer, with the wind inher stern, approached the mouth of the noble Tagus. A bar ofsand, which renders the navigation dangerous at low water, runsacross the mouth; and the island-fort of Belem, which dividesthe stream into two channels, stands in its centre. It was onthe eastern side of the fort that Hildebrand steered his ship;and he hoped, though it was not very dark, that she would passunobserved. Whether she was observed by any of the sentries, ornot, or whether, being observed, she was supposed to be a shipof the king’s, and so not looked after, it is impossible to say;but such was the remissness of the sluggish Spaniards that shewas allowed to pass unquestioned. Having cleared the fort, shekept her way straight on to Lisbon, which was about ten milesfarther. Hildebrand remained on deck the whole time, as didMaster Halyard also; but Don Rafaele, at their suggestion, betookhimself to the cabin, and there retired to rest. When he arosein the morning, the ship had come to an anchor. On mounting tothe deck, he saw the old city, which stood on the opposite shoreto the present one, stretched out before him, about a quarterof a mile distant. The fair bay in its front, which had hardlyopened where he stood, was crowded with tall ships, of dimensionsgreater than any he had ever seen, and so closely packed withal,that he no longer feared that the solitary English ship wouldattract notice. It was as animated a scene as one could wish tobehold. There was the old city, with its black monasteries, itsprison-like convents, its towering churches, and its close-packedstreets, all sloping up from the water, as distinctly displayedas in a map. Then came the forest of men-of-war, each a floatingcastle, and populous as a city. The wide, bright river, as faras the eye could penetrate, was ploughed by vessels of everyorder--ships, gun-boats, and galleys, all bearing down towardsthe city, and destined to join the tremendous armada. On theopposite shore, where stands the present city, rose a chain ofverdant hills, stretching far beyond the site of the modernpalace of Necessidades, which now crowns one of them. The hillswere green to the water’s edge, and, here and there, were toppedwith smiling white windmills, or, rather, wine-presses, which,sparkling in the sun, made the verdure of the hills even moreapparent. Over all, and high above all, was spread the soft, bluesky, free from the least speck, and making the river look azurefrom mere reflection.
Don Rafaele was still surveying the scene, when he felt ahand, the touch of which he seemed to recognise directly, laidgently on his shoulder. With a glad smile, he turned round, andperceived Hildebrand.
“’Tis a fair scene,” remarked that person, gaily, “yet thouwouldst hardly think, from our placid appearance, that we standon the very threshold of almost certain destruction. By my faith,’tis nearer even than I looked for. Ho, there! aft! Hoist theDanish flag half-mast high!”
His order was obeyed on the instant; and the crew now, for thefirst time, observed that the flag of each ship of the armadahung in the same way. Who was dead they could not conjecture; butthat it was an officer of the highest rank, if not a member ofthe royal family, they did not doubt, as the national flag wouldnot be thus degraded but for some great public personage.
Notwithstanding that a general apprehension prevailed amongthe crew that they would shortly be overhauled by the Spanishofficials, they now thought of nothing, in their conversationwith each other, but the new topic for conjecture, and exhaustedspeculation as to which of the Dons had become defunct. Theirinterest in the matter was increased towards evening, whenHildebrand, who had been below all day, making up his log,appeared again on the deck, and displayed on his slouched hatthe mournful memorial of a black band. As he stepped on to thequarter-deck, he was joined by Don Rafaele, who, previous to hisappearance, had been pacing the poop, but had no sooner discernedhim in the hatchway, than he hurried to his side.
“Urge me no further, fair Rafaele,” said Hildebrand, before DonRafaele could speak to him. “’Twere running thee into a needlessperil, and would impede me grievously.”
“’Tis because, by my aspect and port, I would be a great aid tothee, making thee pass more reasonably for a Spaniard, that Iseek to attend thee,” said Don Rafaele.
“I’faith, that might be,” answered Hildebrand; “yet not even tomake mine own risk less, will I bring hazard on thee.”
“I see, thou art resolved to gainsay me, Senhor,” returned DonRafaele. “I fear me, thou beginn’st to regard me troublesome.”
“Art in earnest, Rafaele?” asked Hildebrand, taking up his hand.“Know’st thou not that certain death, without an instant’srespite, will follow our detection? Thou art resolved! Then, willI refuse thee no further. Get thee a black band, and, when thenight falls, we will off.”
It was now evening, but, though cloudy, it was yet quite light.The brightness of the scene, however, had passed away, and thenight threatened to be a rough one. The wind increased everymoment, and the noble river, which had lately looked so placid,was lashed into high waves, topped with foam, and raging likebreakers. After a little time, it began to rain, first likesleet, and then in torrents. Moreover, the night, though itwas the summer season, set in early, and it was quite dark bynine o’clock. Shortly after that hour, a small boat, scarcelylarger than a punt, was manned by two seamen, and lowered fromthe stern of the English ship. Some doubt existed whether, touse a nautical term, it would “live” on the agitated water;but so adroitly did its two navigators bestow themselves, inanticipation of a mishap, that it maintained its equilibrium,and rode the waves gallantly. Still it was not without somedifficulty that it was skulled round to the gangway. Hildebrandand Don Rafaele, muffled in long cloaks, which both the weatherand their expedition required, and with their heads wellprotected by their slouched hats, there waited its approach.When it came alongside, Hildebrand, seizing a firm hold of theside-rope, lowered himself cautiously into its centre, and thenhelped Don Rafaele to descend. After that person had reached theboat, they both took their places in the stern, and the boatshoved off.
The storm now raged furiously, and it was only by the greatestefforts, aided by long experience, and unshaken intrepidity,that the navigators of the boat could shoot clear of the ship.When they did clear her, their danger was even augmented, andthe wind, being no longer intercepted by the ship, threatenedto capsize their frail bark every moment. The water roaredagain; and, withal, shot up in such high waves, boiling withspray, that they were almost blinded. To add to the terrors oftheir situation, the rain still descended in torrents; and thedarkness, which had all along been excessive, seemed even toincrease, and, like that of Egypt, could almost be felt. Nothingcould be seen on the water as far as the eye could extend, butstreaks of white foam; and on the shore, only a few lights werevisible, now and then, like twinkling stars. Occasionally theboat almost whirled round. It required all Hildebrand’s strength,which was no little, to maintain his hold of the rudder, and eventhen the boat scarcely answered it. The waves beat under her asif they would knock in her bottom; and its inmates frequentlybounced up in their seats, in spite of their utmost resistance,with the violence of the shock. Moreover, the wind blew right intheir teeth, and, as they struggled forward, they shipped waterevery moment. Though the city, judging from the aforementionedlights, was little more than a quarter of a mile distant, itseemed impossible that they could ever reach it, and absolutemadness to pursue the attempt. Indeed, they expected, almostwith certainty, that they would be swamped by each wave. Stillthe bold man who held the helm retained his firmness; his ironnerves, as if they were strung for the occasion, never onceflinched; and he seemed to dare peril, and defy the storm.
The boat pushed on; now shooting up the curl of a long, whistlingwave; then, with reckless violence, dashing into the gapingtrough below, which appeared to yawn even more under its bottom,and to let it sink yet deeper and deeper. Then the rain, andthe wind, and the dashing spray, all blended together, beatdown in it from above, and the little boat groaned again. Howhuman beings could move through such horrors, where death wasin every object, and retain their presence of mind, was trulyamazing. Yet Hilde
brand maintained his place at the rudder; andthe two hardy seamen, though keenly alive to their situation,and fully expecting that every successive wave would swamp oroverturn the boat, held on at their oars. Still they made butlittle progress; for, owing to the excessive agitation of thewater, their oars, though so skilfully and adroitly worked, didnot always dip, and, even when they did, the violence of thestorm half counteracted the impulse. Nor was it by the tempestalone that all their terror was inspired. As they progressed,their ears were saluted by heart-rending shrieks; and thunderingnoises, like the clashing together of some immense bodies,and which they rightly conjectured to be collisions among theclosely-packed shipping, silenced even the roar of the elements.Then a sharp, rushing sound broke on the ear; and the black hullsof two gigantic vessels, looking like the spirits of the storm,flew past together, amidst a terrible chorus of mortal shrieks.
The terrors of death hung around the cruizer’s little boat;but its fearless captain, however he might be moved inwardly,appeared to be still undaunted.
“Now, cheerily, my lads! cheerily!” he cried, to the two rowers,at this appalling juncture. “The lights are close at hand: threestrokes more, and ye have the beach.”
But, strive as the rowers might, the oars would not dip: thelong, curling waters troughed under the boat more deeply thanever: then a roaring wave, curling higher and higher as it cameon, caught it under the stern, and shot it high on the shore.
The boat capsized as the wave receded; but fortunately, havingforeseen what would be its effect, the two seamen had leaped outas she grounded, and so were able to prevent her being swamped.As they held on to the boat, Hildebrand also was about to leapout, when, turning to help up Don Rafaele, he perceived that thatperson had fallen into a swoon. There was no time to hesitate,and, quick as thought, he caught him up in his arms, and steppedwith him on to the shore.
While the men were hauling the boat up on the beach, so as toplace it beyond the influence of the waves, Hildebrand sought,by chafing his cold temples, to revive Don Rafaele. Whether fromthis cause, or because he had been insensible for some time,and the paroxysm was exhausted, Don Rafaele recovered almostdirectly, and, with a low, deep sigh, opened his eyes.
“Where are we?” he cried: “_still?_ not whirling round? Oh! myheart will burst!”
“We are safe now, my fair Rafaele,” answered Hildebrand.“Here”--he added, drawing from under his cloak a small flask, andholding it to his lips,--“take thee a taste of this.”
Don Rafaele tasted of the contents of the flask; but the spirit,in its raw state, was too powerful for him, and he could not takeabove a mouthful. Even that, however, had a reviving effect uponhim, and, as he withdrew his lips from the flask, he smiled, andlooked quite composed again.
Hildebrand took a good draught from the flask. By the time thathe had thus refreshed himself, the two seamen, having secured theboat, came up with him.
“My lads,” said Hildebrand, handing them the flask, “here is thatwill keep this pelting rain out of your jackets. Now, hold ye agood watch on the boat! Pray God the wind lull, or we shall neverfind the ship!”
“We shall never find the ship to-night, your honour,” said one ofthe sailors, hitching up his trousers.
“How know’st that, Ben Hatchway?” demanded the other sailor, whohad just taken a good pull from the brandy-flask, and now thoughtthat he could find any object. “His honour knows what we can dobetter than an old log-boat like thee, I should ween.”
“For the matter o’ that,” remarked Ben.--But here he paused,and, previous to explaining further, took a deep draught fromthe flask, which his comrade had just handed to him. Havingthus recruited himself, he resumed:--“For the matter o’ that,Will Bowsprit, here’s his honour to the fore, and, as I wasa-saying--beshrew my topsail!--I’ve been in the Portingales aforeto-day; and, sink me! as I was a-say”--
“Why, look-ye!” interrupted Will Bowsprit; “an’ I leaves myold hull in that there Portugee fish-pond, look-ye! blow me toshivers, that’s all! Here’s your honour’s health! I’ll drink toyoung Master Don’s anon.”
“My lads, we must back to-night, at all hazards,” saidHildebrand. “Stand you to the boat; and when you hear ‘Boatahoy!’ cried, give a holloa. Yonder light is the last towards theship, and is almost in a line with the boat. That shall be mymark!”
As he ceased speaking, a vivid flash of lightning, of the kindcalled “forked,” struck through the darkness; and all “theartillery of heaven” burst forth overhead. The din among theblack masses of shipping, in the river before them, which hereopened into a noble bay (for it was too large to be called abasin), seemed to increase, yet the whistling of the wind andrain was heard above it. Hildebrand paused a moment: then,wrapping his cloak around him, he turned about, and led DonRafaele towards the city.
A flight of steps brought them to a quay, whence they passedinto a long, dirty street. Not a living creature was to beseen: nothing was to be seen, indeed, but the black houses,which gave forth no sign of being inhabited. After going alongsome distance, they came to another street, turning out of themain thoroughfare, in which they espied a light. Whispering DonRafaele to be of good heart, and (for he had become very faint)helping him along with one hand, Hildebrand immediately made forthe light, and shortly came up with it. As he had expected, itissued from the lower casement of a tavern, the outermost doorof which, opening into a close passage, was fastened back, andthus invited whoever might be passing to enter.
On coming before the open door, Hildebrand paused, and turned tospeak to his companion.
“Be of good cheer, Rafaele!” he said. “The storm favours us, and,methinks, we have no great cause for fear.”
“How can I be afeard when with thee?” answered Don Rafaele. “Ifear nought, but I am grievously faint.”
“That we will amend within here,” rejoined Hildebrand. “Let usenter.”
He led the way as he spoke, and, followed by Don Rafaele, passedto the end of the passage, where a door admitted them into theinn. On their entry, they found themselves in a large room,which served the purpose of a modern bar. A cheerful light hungfrom the roof; and a long table, on which were displayed severaldishes of cold viands, and divers goodly flasks, stood in itscentre. Behind the table, in one corner of the room, was a fireof logs, at which stood mine host and hostess. At the moment thatour friends entered, those two worthies seemed, by their looks,to be in a state of great tribulation; but mine host was revivedby the appearance of two guests, and quickly proceeded to bidthem welcome.
“Senhors, welcome, i’ God’s name!” he cried. Here a tremendouspeal of thunder threw him on his knees. “_Sancta JohannesBaptista, ora pro nobis, peccatoribus!_” he added.
“_Sancta Maria, ora pro nobis!_” exclaimed his wife, also fallingon her knees.
The thunder was, indeed, awful, and shook the very house. Asit roared over his head, Don Rafaele, whether from terror, orthe higher impulse of devotion, was almost inclined to followthe example of mine host and hostess, and fall on his knees inprayer. While he yet hesitated, however, Hildebrand caught himby the arm, and led him forward to the fire.
The thunder ceased as they came up to the fire; and mine host andhostess, somewhat assured by their seeming composure, and more bythe cessation of the thunder, began to collect themselves. Slowlyrising to his feet, mine host turned to his guests once more.
“A right dread peal that, Senhors,” he remarked, in tremulousaccents. “Good St. Jago defend us! What would you, now, to keepup your hearts withal?”
“A good bowl of warm Oporto, Senhor host,” answered Hildebrand.“Prithee, let it be hot, now, and stint not the lemon andspice; for, by my troth, they give it a most heartening savour.Despatch, despatch, good host! and thou mayst then set cups forthyself and spouse.”
“Will I?” rejoined mine host. “’Tis done!”
And though, literally speaking, it was not yet done, the bowl ofmulled port did appear speedily, steaming hot. While Hildebranddiscussed a cup of it, he m
editated how he should discover, byoblique and indirect inquiries, that information respecting thearmada which he had come to seek. Before he could resolve whatcourse to pursue in the matter, however, mine host, renderedloquacious by the wine, proceeded to satisfy his curiosityspontaneously.
“Right good Oporto, that, Senhor Captain?” he remarked. “’Twillcheer thy noble heart, I promise thee, under the mishap youmariners have incurred. Truly, my Lord Marquis, the Admiral, diedat an ill time.”
Hildebrand’s heart beat quick as, without risking an inquiry, hethus learned that the renowned Admiral of the armada was no more.
“I question much,” he said, in reply to mine host, “an’ hissuccessor will be his equal.”
“’Tis the common report,” returned mine host, “for though my LordDuke, to be sure, hath served in the wars”--
“What duke, I prithee?” asked Hildebrand, somewhat off his guard.
Mine host looked surprised. “What! art thou in Lisbon,” he cried,“and know’st not who hath been commissioned Lord Admiral?”
“By my troth,” cried Hildebrand, laughing, “an’ I knew it, goodSenhor host, I would not require to ask news of thee. But, tospeak sooth, I am but just come to Lisbon, designing, with myfair brother here, to offer for the armada as volunteers.”
“Truly, then, thou art but in the nick of time,” rejoined minehost; “for the armada weighs for England to-morrow.”
“To-morrow?” cried Hildebrand. “Surely, no!”
“’Twas notified to-day by proclamation,” said mine host.
“Well, well, take another cup of Oporto,” replied Hildebrand,replenishing his cup, and presenting it to him. “Who, saidstthou, is appointed Lord Admiral?”
“The Duke de Medina Sidonia,” answered mine host, smacking hislips after his draught. “Good Oporto, that!”
“Right excellent!” said Hildebrand. “But hark! ye have moreguests coming!”
The tread of several feet, indeed, was heard close at hand; andHildebrand, and Don Rafaele, who, in all things followed hisexample, had hardly turned round to the fire, with their backsto the door, when the door was pushed open, and five cavaliersrushed in. Like Hildebrand and Don Rafaele, they were drippingwith wet; and, without heeding mine host, they straight madefor the fire. On coming thither, one of them, in striving toget nearer the fire, pushed against Don Rafaele, and thatcavalier turned to make room for him. As he did so, he glancedin the intruder’s face, and both he and that person, as by asimultaneous impulse, uttered an exclamation of surprise. Everon the alert, Hildebrand now turned round, and pushed himselfforemost. Glancing in his face, he recognised, to his greatconfusion, the features of Don Gonzalez, the uncle and guardianof Donna Inez.
Don Gonzalez was collected in a moment.
“Ho, spies!” he exclaimed: “English spies!”
Hildebrand aimed a blow at him as he spoke, and, striking him inthe face, felled him to the floor. At the same moment he threwhis left arm round Don Rafaele; and with a quick step, yet facingthe enemy, made for the door. The four cavaliers who accompaniedDon Gonzalez sprang up directly; but the adventure had opened sounexpectedly, and was of such a singular and surprising nature,that they were off their guard, and Hildebrand arrived unmolestedat the door. As he drew the door open, however, one of theSpaniards, more collected than his comrades, levelled a pistol athim, and fired.