<h3> CHAPTER XV </h3>
<p>Next day I stayed within all the morning. Harry
was in London, and though I had come thither to
seek him, I dared not stir abroad for fear of meeting
him. I dined in my lodging, sending Lashmer to the
tavern for a quart of claret.</p>
<p>The food and the wine must have put new heart in
me; for after they were done I sallied forth alone,
resolved to prosecute my search. Still dreading success,
I wandered eastward along the Strand. Many gallants,
most splendid with new-fashioned hats and hose, were
loitering along the way I went. I followed the stream,
and so, passing Temple Bar and over the Fleet Bridge,
I came through Ludgate before St. Paul's Church.</p>
<p>I stood a while admiring the grandeur of the front
and the lofty tower. For then, being untravelled, I was
unlearned in architecture, and saw not how rude were
its proportions and barbarous its ornament beside the
new style.</p>
<p>Many gallants went by me as I watched, laughing,
and passed on into the church. Harry had often told
me how it was a place of great resort, so I followed,
thinking perhaps to find what I looked for and dreaded to see.
The floor of the long and lofty nave was thronged
with gallants and would-be gallants, strolling up and
down, and laughing and talking with one another;
while between the piers of clustered columns which
supported the soaring roof-groins and dim triforium
knots of men were gathered, who seemed for the most
part to be merchants. From time to time I could see
a bond or account-book fluttering white amidst their
sober robes, but all was done with as little noise and
bustle as could well be.</p>
<p>For it must be known that Paul's was not then the
den of thieves it is now. It was not so long since the
Queen's proclamation had been issued against such as
should transact business, or make any fray, or shoot any
hand-gun or dag within the precincts. It was still had
in memory, though little regarded, and the place was
not wholly disorderly.</p>
<p>Yet was it sufficiently out of order to see so gay a
company glowing in their bright clothes of 'popinjay
blue,' 'devil-in-the-head,' 'lusty gallant,' and I know
not what other outlandish new-fashioned hues, and to
hear their laughter rolling round the gray old walls,
and the clink of their spurs and rapiers on the pavement,
and the rustle of their silks and taffeta as they
walked.</p>
<p>Wrapped as I was in myself, and shut off by my
shame from all men, that thoughtless throng only made
my sense of loneliness keener. Far more in sympathy
with me than any creature there was the tall temple itself,
which, stripped long since of all its altars and Popish
adornments, seemed to look down in lofty contempt
upon the irreverent crowd which insulted its ancient
dignity. Solemn and sad and alone it seemed to wait
in patient confidence for the day when their little
paltry lives would have passed away to oblivion, and
its days of worship would come again.</p>
<p>That there were many there more loyal with their
tongues than in ought else I could see as I went
forward and came near Duke Humphrey's tomb. Here
the proclamation seemed wellnigh forgotten. Round
the battered effigy the throng was thicker and full of
ruffling loud-voiced swaggerers, who, from their ruffianly
carriage and most vile Smithfield oaths, made me think
their gentility much belied the bravery of their clothes.
It was a thing I then first noted, and have since much
grieved over, that men of low station nowadays take to
wearing garments of gentleman's cut, no matter how
common or ill-made, so long as they be as good as their
scrapings, or stealings, or borrowings will buy.</p>
<p>Not wishing to mingle with this lewd throng I
turned aside between the columns, that I might so pass
into the aisle and avoid them. But before I could
carry out my purpose I felt myself hustled roughly into
the aisle by some one who thrust violently by me.</p>
<p>'Body of Bacchus!' said a loud, gruff voice, 'know
you not better, base countryman, than to hustle a
gentleman so?'</p>
<p>I turned and saw glaring at me a tall ruffian whom
I had noted in the throng. He was dressed in garish
and faded garments very vilely pinked and guarded, and
wore on his head a most desperate hat. As though to
give him a warlike note, his clothes were thrown on
in a slovenly way, and his moustache frounced out so
shock and bristling that it seemed from each hair-end
a crackling oath must start with every word he said. I
felt little inclined for a brawl, least of all in that place,
though to quarrel with any man would perhaps have
been a comfort in my present state; so I civilly told
him I was sorry to have stood in his way.</p>
<p>'What, base minion!' said he very fierce, with a
whole fusilada of oaths, 'think you to pass so lightly
from a gentleman's wrath?'</p>
<p>'I pray you, sir, be content,' I replied as quietly as I
could, for it seemed very silly to quarrel with such a
mountebank. 'If I wronged your gentility it was
unwittingly, and I crave your pardon.'</p>
<p>'Stay, rude rustic,' said he, stepping before me as I
turned away, and clapping his hand to a rapier of
extravagant length. 'This shall not serve you. Craving
of pardons shall not serve you, nor your <i>pardonnez-mois</i>
neither. A gentleman must have satisfaction by rule
and circumstance, after the teaching of the inestimable
Signor Rocco.'</p>
<p>I found myself by this time hemmed in by a throng
of his fellows, as ruffianly and hectoring as himself,
none of whom I dare have sworn could ever have
afforded so much as their noses inside Signor Rocco's
'College,' so I thought best to make an end.</p>
<p>'Come then, sir,' said I, 'to a fitting place, and I will
presently give you your desire.'</p>
<p>'Nay, but first name your friends,' my opponent
replied. 'For know, base scullion, that town-bred
gentlemen fight by rule and circumstance, and not like
two rams in field, without supporters.'</p>
<p>'Yes, pretty shepherd,' cried the throng jeeringly,
'name first your friend, if you want a gentleman to
walk with you.'</p>
<p>I now saw my evil case and what a trick was put on
me, and knew not what to do. To draw my rapier, Harry's
rapier, on this vermin was farthest from my thoughts.
Yet the throng hustled me closer, and my bully
swaggered and threatened loudly.</p>
<p>'I have no friend here,' said I, 'unless any gentleman
among you will stand by me.'</p>
<p>'Hark to the scurvy rustic,' they cried, in answer to
my look around to them. 'A pox on your familiarity.
You will get no friend here.'</p>
<p>'Nay, my dry-livered lubbers, that he will,' cried a
clear jolly voice, and I turned to see Frank Drake and
another gentleman break through the throng to my side.
'What is it, Jasper? Stand back, ye lubberly porpoises,
and give a seaman sea-room.'</p>
<p>'Stand back, I pray you, gentlemen,' cried my bully
very condescending; 'I knew not that I spoke with a
friend of Captain Drake's.'</p>
<p>'Or maybe you would not have spoken so loud, my
pot-valiant Hercules,' said Frank's friend.</p>
<p>'What is all the coil about, Jasper?' said Frank again,
while my bully tried to outstare the gentleman.</p>
<p>''Tis nothing,' said I. 'He wanted two friends for
me, to help give him satisfaction for having been at the
pain of jostling me.'</p>
<p>'Give him a tester, sir,' said Frank's friend, 'to buy
sack withal. That is the best satisfaction for his most
barrel-bellied worship.'</p>
<p>'No, gentlemen,' said my bully with great pomp,
finding he could not outstare his new adversary, 'it is
satisfaction enough to know the gentleman is a friend
of the most valiant Captain Drake. I know of no
quarrel here that a skin of muscadine will not assuage.
I pray you, let me conduct you to a very honest tavern
hard by where I am known, and where I will see you
served with the best.'</p>
<p>'Most courtly offered!' said the gentleman. 'And
peradventure your most sweet honesty will see us served
also with very honest dice and very honest cards. 'Tis
a pity we are promised elsewhere, but so it is, and we
must perforce pray your valourship to bestow on us
instead a full measure of your most delectable absence.'</p>
<p>'By the soul of Bacchus,' said the bully, swelling
with contempt, 'were it not for the proclamation,
blood should flow for this;' but we all laughed at him,
and he strode away with his nose in the air, as proud
as Alexander after Granicus. So we were rid of him
and his fellows, who followed on his heels all growling,
'Were it not for the proclamation,' and swearing like
drovers between their teeth.</p>
<p>'A happy meeting, Jasper,' said Frank. 'Yonder go
as arrant a lot of thieves as any in all London. Be
better acquainted with my friend, Mr. John Oxenham.
A fellow-adventurer, Oxenham, Mr. Festing, but not, to
my grief, a shipmate.'</p>
<p>'Pity you will not sail with us, Mr. Festing,' said
Mr. Oxenham with a winning courtesy of manner. 'A
man who can stand up to a throng of swaggerers like
that should try his hand on Spaniards.'</p>
<p>'Why, so he has,' cried Frank,' and to their cost; but
now he will be doing nothing but ram home most
portentous charges of words into paper ordnance with
a quill rammer. Heaven knows what giants they will
bring down when they go off!'</p>
<p>We all laughed together, for I cannot say what it
was to me to meet these two in the midst of my loneliness.
I gladly accepted their invitation to a tavern,
where we could talk in peace. For not only was I
overjoyed to be with Frank again, but I was much taken
with Mr. Oxenham.</p>
<p>He was a tall, well-dressed man with a very handsome
face, and such courageous eyes that I did not
wonder they had daunted the Paul's man. 'Tis true I
should have liked him better had it not been for an
amorous look he wore over all his manliness. Yet who
was I to judge him for that? His talk was very pleasant,
for he had been a rover from his youth, and spoke of
what he had seen freely, without boasting. We sat
drinking a long time, and talked of the glories of the
West and a sailor's life, for which he had conceived a
romantic enthusiasm.</p>
<p>'Ah, Mr. Festing,' burst out Mr. Oxenham at last,
'it is a pity you will not sail with us to the West,
since you are bent on travel. I envy you your learning
in these things, but none who have not seen can picture
their glory. Compared with them, to potter about Europe
from one pestered town to another, from one crowded
country to another, is like the paddling of a duckling in
a puddle beside the everlasting flight of the god-like
albatross, that never lights, not even for love. This old
world is gray, and worn, and stifling. Over there it is all
colour and sunlight and freedom; where the golden
land brings forth without labour, and he who will may
pass through and enjoy. Why, when once you come to
that Paradise where all is so wide and fresh and lovely,
you lift your hands in wonder, as you look back to this
dull corner far away, that your life can ever have been
so little as to come within the bounds of such a prison;
you shall hardly believe there was ever room here for
aught large enough to cause a moment's grief or joy for
your expanded soul. There you can see Nature and
know at last what beauty is. There at last you shall
drink her fragrant breath, feel the richness of her warm
embrace, revel in the azure and rose colour and golden
sheen that make up her divine beauty, and lie in her arms
to know at last what it means to say, "This is delight."'</p>
<p>'And think, lad,' cried Frank, who hardly, I think,
can have seen with Mr. Oxenham's eyes, 'think that it
is Spaniards who have ravished this rich beauty. It is
these idolatrous hell-hounds of Antichrist who have
possessed this Shulamite woman whom the Lord had
reserved as a bride for his saints. It will be a glorious
smiting of them. Their lust has made them sleepy
and womanish. They are puffed up into silly security
with their Spanish pride. Why, man, they will leave
whole estates in charge of one slave, and send out
trains of a hundred Indians or more laden with gold
with but a single negro over them. I know it all now.
I know every way in and out, and every course and time
their ships will sail, and I know harbours, lad, where
none could ever find us, where we can lie in wait and
pounce out like cats on the good things that come by.
And then they have not a walled town on the coast, that
I know of. We can swoop down on the Dons and be
away again, made men, or ever they have time to wake
up out of their beds. Why will not men see what
there is to be done, if they will only do? One such stroke
as I have in mind will do more to undo Antichrist than
all your thinking. Yet you scholars will not see it,
but will not cease your idle disputing and dreaming till
the angels shall come down and cry to you in voice of
thunder, "Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up
into heaven?"'</p>
<p>His words struck me very deep, and I began to see
how idle was our scholars' contempt for men of action.
So, with ever-growing interest, I listened as we talked
together till long after supper, and Frank unfolded every
detail of his plan in his honest practical way.
Mr. Oxenham, moreover, ceased not to paint his glowing
pictures not only of what was known of those regions,
but also of the fairyland beyond, where no Christian had
yet trod,—the unknown lands where he set my fancy
playing with his till my imagination, on which I had
already heaped so much that was inflammable from my
books, was all on fire.</p>
<p>As for my reason, Frank's sound sense was enough
to satisfy that, and his taunt at my standing still and
gazing up into heaven while others were doing touched
my pride nearly. What wonder, then, that when the
time came to bid them good-night, when I saw before
me my lonely lodging, when I pictured the blank
morrow and all my life beyond, empty of hope or joy
or fellowship, when they urged me once more most
earnestly to sail with them, that I could not resist!</p>
<p>They were pressing on me the very course in which
I could follow Mr. Follet's strangely-worded advice
more fully and nobly than I had ever dreamed. In
place of my faith a sense of destiny seemed to have
come to me, and to be speaking clearly in this chance
meeting. If there was anything in man's harmony
with the music of the spheres, sure it was the wild
adventurous war-note of the universal gamut that I
heard far off in the height of heaven sounding low and
clear for my soul's response.</p>
<p>My quest for Harry was forgotten, and with it whatever
else tied me to the old life, which now began to
seem but a body of death. For that strange voice had
come over the wide ocean and whispered its witching
summons in my ear also. I could not choose but obey.</p>
<p>So we three joined hands and drank a cup on my
resolve, and one more was added to the throng who day
by day were leaving all to taste the ripe lips of this
New Helen in the West.</p>
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