by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER VIII
"WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE!"
Three weeks and two days had passed, and the _St. Iago_ was off Lisbon,and at anchor.
The sun beat down upon the decks, the pitch bubbled in the seams, butnow and then a cool breeze came off the land. The city with its longwhite terraces of houses shimmered in a haze of heat, but on the westside of the valley in which the city lay, the florid gothic of the greatchurch of St. Jerome, built just five-and-fifty years before, wasperfectly clear-cut against the sapphire sky--burnt into a vast enamelof blue, it seemed; bright grey upon blue, with here and there atwinkling spot of gold crowning the towers.
Twenty-three days the ship had taken to cut through the long oilyAtlantic swell and come to port. There had been no rough winds in theBay, no tempests such as make it terrible for mariners at other times ofthe year.
* * * * *
When they had arrived on board, and the ship had got out of the Thames,none of the four fugitives had the slightest idea as to where they weregoing--Madame La Motte least of all. The relief at their escape hadbeen too great; strangely enough, they had not even enquired.
The old Frenchwoman, as soon as the ship was under way, and CaptainClark could attend to her, had gone below with him for half an hour;while Johnnie, Hull, and Elizabeth remained upon the poop.
When La Motte returned, the captain was smiling. There was a genialtwinkle in his eye. He came up to the others in a very friendly fashion.
"S'death," he said, "I am in luck's way. Here you are, MasterCommendone, that are my owner's friend and bear a letter from him; andhere is Mistress La Motte, whom I have known long agone. By carrying yeto Cadiz I shall be earning the Alderman's gratitude, and also good redcoins of the Mint, which Madame hath now paid me."
"Cadiz?" Johnnie said. "Cadiz in Spain?"
"That fair city and none other," the captain answered. "Heaven favouringus, we shall bowl along to the city of wine, of fruit, and of fish. Youshall sip the sherries of Jerez and San Lucar, and eke taste the soup oflobsters--langosta, they call it--and _bouillabaisse_ in the southernparts of France--upon the island of San Leon, where the folk do go upona Sunday for that refection. But now come you down below and see to yourquarters. I have given up my cabin to the ladies, and you, sir," heturned to Johnnie, "must turn in with me, to which end I havecommandeered the cabin of Master Mew, that is my chief officer, and amerry fellow from the Isle of Wight, who will sing you a right goodcatch of an evening, I'll warrant. And as for this your servant, thebo'son will look to him, and he will not be among the men."
They had gone below, and everything was arranged accordingly. Thequarters were more comfortable than Commendone had expected, and as faras this part of the expedition was concerned all was well.
Nevertheless, as Johnnie came up again upon the poop with the captain,he was in great perturbation. They were sailing to Spain! To the verycountry which was ruled by the man he had so evilly entreated. Might itnot well be that, escaping Scylla, they were sailing into the whirlpoolof Charybdis?
The captain seemed to divine something of the young man's thoughts. Hesat down upon a coil of rope and looked upward with a shrewd andweather-beaten eye.
"Look you here, master," he said. "Why you came aboard my ship I knownot. You caught me as I was weighing anchor. Thou art a gentleman ofcondition, and yet you come aboard with no mails, and nothing but thatin which you stand up. And you come aboard in company with that old Mollof Flanders, La Motte--no fit company for a gentleman upon a voyage. Andfurthermore, you have with you a young and well-looking lady, who alsohath no baggage with her. I tell you truly that I would not haveshipped you all had it not been for the letter of His Worship theAlderman--whose hand of write I know very well upon bills of lading andsuch. I like the look of you, and as Madame there has paid me well, 'tisno business of mine what you are doing or have done. But look you here,if that pretty young mistress is being forced to come with you againsther will--and what else can I think when I see her in the company of oldMoll?--then I will be a party to nothing of the sort. I am not a marriedman, not regular church-sworn, that is, though I have a woman friend ortwo in this port or that. And moreover, I have been oft-times to visitthe house with the red door. So you'll see I am no Puritan. But at thesame time I will be no help to the ravishing of maids of gentle blood,and that I ask you well to believe, master."
Johnnie heard him patiently to the end.
"Let me tell you this, captain," he said, "that in what I am doing thereis no harm of any sort. Mistress Taylor, which is the name of theyounger lady, is the ward of Mr. Robert Cressemer. The Alderman is myvery good friend. My father, Sir Henry Commendone, of Commendone inKent, is his constant friend and correspondent. The young lady was takenaway yesterday from her guardian's care, taken in secret by some onehigh about the Court--from which I also come, being a Gentleman in thefollowing of King Philip. Late last night, I received a letter from theAlderman, telling me of this, upon which I and my servant immediatelyset out for where we thought to find the stolen lady, in that we mightrescue her. She had been taken, shame that it should be said, to thehouse of Madame La Motte in Duck Lane. From there we took her, but inthe taking I slew a most unknightly knight of the Court, and offered agrave indignity to one placed even more highly than he was. Ofnecessity, therefore, we fled from that ill-famed house. Madame La Mottebrought us to your ship, knowing you. Her we had to take with us, for ifnot, vengeance would doubtless have fallen upon her for what I did. Andthat, Captain Clark, is my whole story. As regards the future, Madame LaMotte, you say, hath paid you well. I have no money with me, but I amthe son of a rich man, and moreover, I can draw upon Mr. Cressemer foranything I require. Gin you take us safely to Cadiz, I will give yousuch a letter to the Alderman as will ensure your promotion in hisservice, and will also be productive of a sum of money for you. I wellknow that Master Cressemer would give a bag of ducats more than youcould lift, to secure the safety of Mistress Taylor."
The captain nodded. "Hast explained thyself very well, sir," he replied."As for the money, I am already paid, though if there is more to come,the better I shall be pleased. But now that I know your state andcondition, and have heard your story, rest assured that I will do all Ican to help you. We touch at Lisbon first. There you can purchaseproper clothing for yourself and those who are with you, and there alsoyou can indite a letter to the Alderman, which will go to him by anEnglish ship very speedily. You have told your tale, and I ask to knowno more. I would not know any more, i' faith, even if thou wert to pressthe knowledge on me. Now do not answer me in what I am about to say,which, in brief, is this: We of the riverside have heard talk andrumours. We know very well who hath now and then been a patron of LaMotte. It may be that you have come across and offered indignity to theperson of whom I speak--I am no fool, Mr. Commendone, and gentlemen ofyour degree do not generally come aboard a vessel in the tideway atearly dawn in company of a mistress of a house with a red door! If whatI say is true--and I do not wish you to deny or to affirm upon thesame--then you are as well in Cadiz as anywhere else. It is, indeed, afar cry from the Tower of London, and no one will know who you are inSpain."
Instinctively Johnnie held out his hand, and the big seaman clasped itin his brown and tarry fist.
"Yes," he said slowly, in answer, weighing his words as he did so,"doubtless we shall be safe in Spain for a time, until advices can reachus from England with money and reports of what has happened."
"I said so," Captain Clark answered, "and now you see it also. Markyou, any vengeance that might fall upon you could only be secret,because--if it is as I think, and, indeed, well believe--the person whohas suffered indignity at your hands could not confess to it, for reasonof his state, and where it was he suffered it. In Spain it would bedifferent, but who's to know that you are in Spain--for a long time, atany rate?"
"And by that time," Johnnie replied, "I shall hope to have gone fartherafield, and be out of the fire of any one to hurt me. Bu
t there is this,captain, which you must consider, sith you have opened your mind to meas I to you. Enquiry will be made; the wharfingers who brought us aboardmay be discovered, and will speak. It will be known--at any rate it_may_ be known--that you and your ship were the instruments of ourescape. And how will you do then?"
"I like you for saying that," said the captain, "seeing that you are, asit were, in my power. But alarm yourself not at all, Master Commendone."
He rose from the coil of hemp where he had been sitting and spat outinto the sea.
"By'r Lady," he cried, "and dost think that an honest British seafaringman fears anything that a rascally, yellow-faced, jelly-gutted lot ofSpanish toads, that have fastened them on to our fair England, can do?Why! as thinking is now, in the City of London, my owner, MasterCressemer, and three or four others with him, could put such pressureupon Whitehall that ne'er a word would be said. It is them that hath themoney, and the train bands at their back, that both pay the piper andcall the tune in London City."
"I'm glad you take it that way, captain," Commendone said, "but I feltbound in duty to put your risk before you. Yet if it is as you say, andthe power of the merchant princes of the City is so great, why do thoseabout the Queen burn and throw in prison so many good men for theirreligion?"
"Ah, there you have me," said the captain. "Religion is a very differentthing--a plague to religion, say I--though I would not say it unless Iwere walking my own deck and upon the high seas. But, look you, religionis very different. They can burn a man for his religion in England, butif he is in otherwise right, according to the powers that be, theycannot make religion a mere excuse for burning him. Now I myself am agood Catholic mariner"--he put his tongue in his cheek as hespoke--"when I am ashore I take very good care--these days--to beregular at Mass. And this ship hath been baptised by a priest withal!Make your mind at rest; they cannot touch me in England for taking ofyou away. There is too much at my back! And they cannot touch me inSpain because no one will know anything about it there. And now 'tistime for dinner. So come you down. There's a piece of pickled beef thathath been in the pot this long time, and good green herbs with ittoo--the want of which you will feel ere ever you make the Tagus."
* * * * *
It is astonishing--although the observation is trite--how soon peopleadapt themselves to entirely new conditions of life. The environment ofyesterday seems like the experience of another life; that of to-day,though we have but just experienced it, becomes already a thing of useand wont.
It was thus with the fugitives. They were not three days out from LondonRiver before they had shaken down into their places and life had becomenormal to them all.
It was not, of course, without its discomforts. Hull, messing with thebo'son, was very well off and speedily became popular with every one.The brightness and cheeriness of the fellow's disposition made him hailand happy met with all of them, while his great personal strength andgeneral handiness detracted nothing from his popularity. Madame LaMotte, wicked old soldier of fortune as she was, adapted herself to hersurroundings with true and cynical French philosophy. She, who was usedto live in the greatest personal luxury, put up with the rough fare, theconfined quarters, with equanimity, though it was fortunate that theirpassage was smooth, and that all the time the sea was tranquil as apond. She was accustomed to drink fine French and Italian wines--and todrink a great deal of them. Now she found, perforce, consolation inCaptain Clark's puncheons of Antwerp spirit, the white fiery _schiedam_.She was a drunkard, this engaging lady, and imbibed great quantities ofliquor, much to the satisfaction of the captain, who was paid for it ingood coin of the realm.
The woman never became confused or intoxicated by what she drank.Towards the end of the day she became a little sentimental, and was wontto talk overmuch of her good birth, to expatiate upon the fallen gloriesof her family. Nevertheless, no single word escaped her which couldshock or enlighten the sensitive purity of the young girl who was now inher charge. There must have been some truth in her stories, becauseCommendone, who was a thoroughly well-bred man, could see that hermanners were those of his own class. There was certainly afree-and-easiness, a rakish _bonhomie_, and a caustic wit which was nopart of the attributes of the great ladies Johnnie had met--alwaysexcepting the wit. This side of the old woman came from the depths intowhich she had descended; but in other essentials she was a lady, and theyoung man, with his limited experience of life, marvelled at it, andmore than once thanked God that things were no worse.
It was during this strange voyage that he learnt, or began to learn,that great lesson of _tolerance_, which was to serve him so well in hisafter life. He realised that there was good even in this unclean oldprocuress; that she had virtues which some decent women he had known hadlacked. She tended Elizabeth with a maternal care; the girl clung toher, became fond of her at once, and often said to Johnnie how kind thewoman was to her and what an affection she inspired.
Reflecting on these things in the lonely watches of the night,Commendone saw his views of life perceptibly changing and becomingsoftened. This young man, so carefully trained, so highly educated, soexquisitely refined in thought and behaviour, found himself feeling areal friendship and something akin to tenderness for this kindly,battered jetsam of life.
She spoke frankly to him about her dreadful trade of the past, regardingit philosophically. There was a demand; fortune or fate had put her inthe position of supplying that demand. _Il faut vivre_--and there youwere! And yet it was a most singular contradiction that this woman, whofor so long had exploited and sold womanhood, was now as kind andtender, as scrupulous and loving to Elizabeth Taylor as if the girl washer own daughter.
It was not without great significance, Johnnie remembered, that the soulof the Canaanitish harlot was the first that Christ redeemed.
With Elizabeth--and surely there was never a stranger courting--Johnniesank at once into the position of her devoted lover. It seemedinevitable. There was no prelude to it; there were no hesitations; itjust happened, as if it were a thing pre-ordained.
From the very first the girl accepted him as her natural protector; shelooked up to him in all things; he became her present and her horizon.
It was on one lovely night, when the moon was rising, the winds weresoft and low, and the stars came out in the dark sky like golden rain,that he first spoke to her of what was to happen.
It was all quite simple, though inexpressibly sweet.
They were alone together in the forward part of the ship, and suddenlyhe took her slim white hand--like a thing of carved and livingivory--and held it close to his heart.
"My dear," he said, in a voice tremulous with feeling, "my dear Lizzie,you are my love and my lady. When first I saw you outside St. Botolphhis Church, so slim and sorrowful in the grey dawning, my heart waspierced with love for you, and during the sad day that came I vowed thatI would devote my life to loving you, and that if God pleased thoushouldst be my little wife. Wilt marry me, darling? nay, thou _must_marry me, for I need you so sore, to be mine for ever both here in thismortal world and afterwards with God and His Angels. Tell me,sweetheart, wilt marry me?"
She looked up in his face, and the little hand upon his heart trembledas she did so.
"Why, Johnnie," she answered at length, "why, Johnnie, who could I marrybut you?"
He gathered the sweet and fragrant Simplicity to him; he kissed the softscarlet mouth, his strong arms were a home for her.
"Or ever we get to Seville," he said, "we will be married, sweetheart,and never will we part from that day."
She echoed him. "Never part!" she said. "Oh, Johnnie, my true love; mydear and darling Johnnie!"
* * * * *
At Lisbon, where they lay five days, Madame La Motte and Elizabeth wentashore, and purchased suitable clothes and portmanteaux, while Johnniealso fitted himself out afresh. Madame La Motte had brought a very largesum with her in carefully hoarded gold, while she had also carried awayall
her jewels, which, in themselves, were worth a small fortune. Sheplaced the whole of her money at Commendone's disposal, and made himtake charge of it, with an airy generosity which much touched the youngman. He explained to her that in the course of three months or so anymoney that he needed would reach him from England, and that she would berepaid, but she hardly seemed to hear him and waved such suggestionaway. And it is a most curious thing that not till a long time afterwarddid it ever occur to the young man how and in what way the money he wasusing had been earned. The realisation of that was to come to him later;the time was not yet.
At Lisbon the passengers on board the _St. Iago_ were added to. A smallyellow-faced Spaniard of very pleasant manners--Don Pedro Perez byname--bought a passage to Cadiz from Captain Clark, and there wasanother fellow of the lower classes, a tall, athletic young man, verymuch of Johnnie's build, though with a heavy and rather cruel face, whoalso joined the vessel. This person, who paid the captain a small sum tobe carried to the great port, lived with the sailors, and interferednothing with the life of the others.
Don Perez proved himself an amusing companion and was very courteous tothe ladies.
From him Johnnie made many enquiries and learnt a good deal of what hewanted to know. It will be remembered that Commendone's mother was aSpaniard, a girl of the Senebria family of Seville. Johnnie knew littleof his relations on his mother's side, but old Sir Henry still kept upsome slight intercourse with Don Jose Senebria, the brother of his latewife. Now and again a cask of wine and some pottles of olives arrived atCommendone, and occasionally the knight returned the present, sendingout bales of Flemish cloth. It was Johnnie's purpose to immediatelyproceed from Cadiz to Seville after their arrival at the port. He learntwith satisfaction that Don Jose still inhabited the old family palace bythe Giralda, and he felt that he would at least be among friends andsure of a welcome.
While the _St. Iago_ lay at Lisbon, two days before she set sail fromthere, an English ship arrived, and from that time until she weighedanchor Johnnie and none of his companions went ashore. It was extremelyunlikely that they would incur any danger, for the _Queen Mary_, whichwas the name of the ship, must have sailed at very much the same time asthey did. It was as well, however, to undergo no unnecessary risks.
On the day before the _St. Iago_ sailed for Cadiz a great Spanish galleycame up the Tagus, a long and splendid ship, gliding swiftly up theriver with its two banks of oars. It was the first galley Johnnie hadever seen, and he shuddered as he thought of the chained slaves below,who propelled that sort of vessel, which was spoken of in England as afloating hell. The galley lay at Lisbon for several hours, and then atevening left the wharf where she had been tied and once more went downthe river for the open sea.
Johnnie was on deck as she passed, just about sunset, and watched withgreat interest, for the galley crossed the stern of the _St. Iago_ onlyfifty yards away from him.
He heard the regular machine-like chunking of the oars; he heard also asharper, more pistol-like sound, which he knew was none other than thecracking of the overseers' whips, as they flogged the slaves to greaterexertions.
He did not see that among a little group of people upon the highcastellated poop of the galley there was one figure, a tall figure,muffled in a cloak, and with a broad-brimmed Spanish hat low upon itsface, who started and peered eagerly at him as the ship went by.
Nor did he hear a low chuckle of amusement which came from that cloakedfigure.
Elizabeth was standing by his side. He turned to her.
"Let us go below," he said; "they will be bringing supper. Sweetheart, Ifeel sad to think of those wretched men that pull that splendid ship soswiftly through the seas."