<h3> CHAPTER XVI </h3>
<p>It was arranged that I should go out as gentleman
adventurer; and since I did not wish to be without
place, and had some little knowledge of business, gained
by always managing my own estate so as to make it
yield the fullest return, I begged and got the office of
merchant to the expedition.</p>
<p>I was soon tried in my new post, for Frank was
earnest to get back to Plymouth to speed the fitting
out of the ships and the building of the pinnaces, which
we were to carry with us in pieces. So I was left to
purchase the arms and other furniture which was still
lacking. This had been the only occasion of his
staying in London, which being left in my hands he was
free to depart, and this he accordingly did, taking
Mr. Oxenham with him.</p>
<p>From my constant fear of meeting Harry, which
was greater than ever since I had resolved to fly, I
stirred abroad no more than my business demanded.</p>
<p>Yet I was obliged often to go into the city, for there
was still a great deal to be done. Money was in no
way lacking, both by reason of the success of Frank's
two former voyages, which had lined his pockets well,
and of the support he got elsewhere. Nothing was to
be wanting from the complete furniture of a man-of-war
in either ship; and our captain, who, both on his
person and his ship, would always have the best, had
furnished me with a long schedule of muskets, calivers,
targets, pikes, partisans, bows, and artificers' tools, as
well as cloth and other provision for a whole year, all
of which things I was bidden to purchase of different
merchants as far as possible, that no wind of our preparations
should be blown into the Spanish ambassador's ears.</p>
<p>Such time as I was not thus engaged I spent very
profitably in Signor Rocco's new College of Fence in
Warwick Lane. I had learned that Harry did not
resort thither, so, since it was near my lodging, I was
able to enjoy my best-loved pastime and see much
excellent rapier-play that was new to me, whereby the
pain of my delay in London was a little eased.</p>
<p>Thus by avoiding other public places, and above all
Paul's, at the end of a fortnight I found my work
complete without the meeting I dreaded; and with a
lighter heart than I had borne for many a day I took
ship at Radcliffe with all my lading, and so came to
Plymouth after a slow passage on the afternoon of
Friday, the 23d of May.</p>
<p>The three brothers, for Joseph Drake was of the
expedition as well as John, received me with open
arms, and much commended my pains when the arms
and furniture came to be stowed on board. They
informed me that as merchant I was to sail in the
admiral with Frank, of which I was very glad.</p>
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PLYMOUTH</p>
<p>It seemed that everything was prepared, and that, as
they had only stayed for my coming, we were to weigh
on the morrow. Nothing could have been more to my
mind. So eager was I to leave my old life behind that
I hardly accepted their invitation to go ashore to
gather the men who were yet to come aboard. Yet I
did at last for good-fellowship, and started with them
to the sound of a demi-culverin and a flourish of our
trumpets, for a signal to the mariners to embark.</p>
<p>As we rowed I saw another boat making for the
<i>Swan</i>, which lay a good way from the <i>Pasha</i>. They
hailed us as we passed, so that I knew they were some
of our company; but I could not notice them much,
for Frank just then took occasion to point out Mount
Edgcombe to me and I looked the other way.</p>
<p>Our passage from tavern to tavern to beat up the
stragglers was like a triumph. Indeed I think
Plymouth was then, and maybe still is, flat drunk with
the western wine. A crowd followed on our heels,
cheering us as we went; the citizens came out from
their suppers to pledge us lustily with brimming
tankards; and as for smiles of hostesses and wenches
in the taverns I had enough showered on myself alone,
being a gentleman adventurer in the expedition, as
would wellnigh satisfy a regiment of horse a whole
campaign, as such things go now.</p>
<p>What with these oglings and smirkings of the pretty
Plymouth lasses and our constant pledgings, I could
have been as jolly as any piece of tar-yarn there had
it not been for the grievous sights I saw, and our pain
therefrom in getting our men aboard, though I think a
very willing crew.</p>
<p>Most had pledged once or twice too often, and were
for ever taking leave and never departing; some could
not have gone if they had been willing, at least not on
their own legs; others were in pledge, for commodities
they had never seen, to cogging hosts, who held their
boots or sword or breeches as security. Some even we
could by no means come at, save by help of a magistrate's
warrant to search some dishonest alehouse.</p>
<p>Frank told me what I saw was of no account by the
side of what sometimes happened.</p>
<p>'Why, lad,' said he, 'I have known it take two
days and all the magistrates in the borough to gather a
company, and then not see it done. Nay, it is not an
unheard-of thing for this scandal to be the utter
overthrow of a voyage, and general undoing of owners,
victuallers, and company. Mine are all picked lads,
or you should not have seen us come off so easily.'</p>
<p>'I marvel,' said I, and I still do, 'that some among
our great lord-admirals have not taken order to end
these things, which seem a great scandal to the reputation
of our sea-service no less than an injury to the
commonwealth, and ought to be reformed.'</p>
<p>'That is well enough,' answered Frank, 'and much
to be wished; but to keep a mariner at such times
from his ale is a thing more lightly attempted than
easily accomplished.'</p>
<p>Mr. Oxenham was little help to us. Indeed he had
so many pouting lips to kiss in this his own fair town
of Plymouth, and so many dainty waists to encircle, that
I began to think nothing but a warrant or a file of
pikes would ever get him aboard.</p>
<p>Still it was done at last, and the sun rose gloriously
next morning upon us with our company complete. It
was Whitsunday Eve, and the whole town seemed to
have made holiday to bid us God-speed that sunny
May morning.</p>
<p>It was a fair sight to see the hills around in their
fresh spring garb crowding down to the harbour, which
seemed to spread out its shining arms to embrace them.
The Hoe was thronged with a great mass of people
in their gayest clothes; every point beside was bright
with colour, and a score of small fry were cleaving the
clear waters about us.</p>
<p>We stood off and on awhile to give them a good
sight of us, and bid the fair town 'Farewell' with our
great pieces and our music. I think Frank was very
proud of his ships, and well he might be, for never can
have been a smarter sight in Plymouth harbour than
we were that day as we beat to and fro with our great
flags of St. George at the main-tops, and our silk
streamers down to the blue water, and now and again a
white puff from our castles as we answered the ordnance
from the platform saluting us.</p>
<p>Cheer after cheer went up from the shore folk between
each discharge till we could no longer hear them,
and stood out to sea, fairly started at last on that most
memorable adventure. I say memorable, for surely never
was so great a service undertaken with so small a
power. We were, men and boys, all told, but seventy-three
souls, being forty-seven in the admiral and twenty-six
in the vice-admiral, under John Drake, and only one
of us all that was not under thirty.</p>
<p>The wind was very favourable at north-east, and
we stood on all that day and next night. In the
morning when I came on deck I found we were going under
easy sail, only a cable's length from our vice-admiral.
A boat was towing alongside of us, and I saw that some
one must have come aboard from the <i>Swan</i>.</p>
<p>I went aft to our captain's cabin to see what it might
mean. I knocked at the door. Frank's cheery voice
bade me enter. I opened and went in. Heaven save
me from such a moment again! My heart stood still,
my brain swam, for there beside Frank sat Harry, with
Sergeant Culverin at his back!</p>
<p>He sprang to his feet as I shut the door behind
me, and stood glaring at me with his hand on his
rapier.</p>
<p>'Sit down, Harry!' cried Frank; 'I will have no
brawling here.'</p>
<p>Harry took no notice, but stood with his breath
coming very fast and hard just as before.</p>
<p>'Sit down, sir,' thundered our captain; 'wilt mutiny
in my own cabin? Hark ye, sir, on my ship there is
no difference between a gentleman and a cook's boy
when it comes to giving orders. Sit down now, and
take your hand from that weapon, or I shall presently
take order to have you in irons.'</p>
<p>'You are right, Frank, quite right,' said Harry with
an effort as he slowly sat himself down. 'But how can
you have done us this unkindness?'</p>
<p>'Frank, Frank,' said I, finding voice at last, 'you
know not what you have done.' With that I tottered
to the seat on the opposite side of the table to Harry.
I felt undone and crushed. My long grieving and much
brooding on my shame had told on me more than I
guessed. And now to find after my cowardly flight I
had fallen into a trap a hundredfold more dreadful than
that I had sought to escape, to find my new hopes
shattered at a blow and this awful trial before me, was
more than I could bear, and in utter broken despair I
buried my face in my arms upon the table to hide my tears.</p>
<p>'I know well enough what I have done,' said Frank,
after he had left us thus in silence for some moments.
'Do you think that when two good lads, fast friends,
come to me each separately from the side of one fair
lady, haggard and woe-begone, and tell me that they
want to journey they care not whither, so long as it be
far from England, do you think then I know not what
it means? Why, man, I have a score such aboard now.
For though many think that the greater the thief and
blasphemer the better the soldier, yet say I for my work
give me, next to him who sails for love of God, the
honest lad that sails for love of a lass. As I judge
they are half and half aboard our ships now. So think
you I could not read the old tale, when I saw it writ
so plain? And had it not been so, I should yet have
known; for there comes to me an honest worthy soldier
who knew better than I.</p>
<p>'"Captain Drake," says he, "here is a mighty
storm blowing between two valiant gentlemen, who
after long and loving consort have parted company,
so that they cannot come together again without
most nice navigation. I pray you take command,"
says he.</p>
<p>'"How do they bear, Sergeant?" says I.</p>
<p>'"Cry you mercy there, captain," says he; "I am no
pilot of gentlemen's quarrels, yet I can give you certain
just observations, whence peradventure you may take
their bearings yourself."'</p>
<p>Therewith Frank repeated the whole story as he had
it from the Sergeant, till he came to Harry's flight from
the inn. Then in a low earnest voice he told clearly, as
though it were passing before his eyes, what the Sergeant
had seen me do outside with Harry's rapier. I felt so
shamed to hear it now that I would have stayed him,
but felt I could not speak.</p>
<p>'So, gentlemen,' said our captain, when he ended the
tale,' I knew it was a quarrel that might be healed, and
knew nothing more sovereign in such a case than the
lusty sea. I have known many so healed, when they
get far away and see what a little thing it is they
wrestled for, beside the prizes a brave lad can win over
sea. That is what I have done, and I know I am right;
and if you be true men, I would have you shake hands
before you leave this cabin.'</p>
<p>The sound of Harry's hard breathing had ceased as
Frank got on with his tale, and since he described the
scene in the inn-yard I felt my brother's eyes had been
fixed upon me. Now I heard him rise, and felt his hand
laid upon my shoulder.</p>
<p>'Poor lad,' said he very gently, 'poor lad! what
fearful suffering, what a terrible war must have been in
your good heart! Why did I not know it and help you
to victory? You have won alone. I know it now, but
God forgive me, with what carnage of your soul, which
but for my folly I could have stayed. We have both
sinned, and grievously we have both been punished; let
us now lay down the scourge.'</p>
<p>I looked up, hardly daring to face him. Yet when I
saw his look was filled with pity I took courage. Rising
to my feet I took his hands and pressed them hard, but
I could not speak. So putting his arm through mine,
he led me to the door.</p>
<p>'Come,' said he, 'we will go talk together. While
our captain finishes writing his instructions we will try
to instruct each other how best to show ourselves
worthy of her.'</p>
<p>I think we both went out very humbled. Not only
because Frank had so imperiously bent us to his will
and shown us what children we were beside him, but
also because he had compared us to the love-sick boys
of the crew, and our story to their love squabbles. Yet
how could we deny it was different? It was indeed
hard to confess how little different it was, and, as I say,
we both went out with our pride, the mainstay of
quarrels, much humbled.</p>
<p>We had both, I know, tried honestly that our quarrel
should end here, yet was the rent too wide and deep to
be mended so easily. His arm seemed to sit uneasily
in mine, and ere we had gone a few paces he took some
excuse of a point coming untied to draw it away.</p>
<p>Like strangers at last we sat down and tried to talk,
but it was very difficult. I would have given my
tongue to have gone on with the tale where Frank ended,
and to have told Harry how I had seen his dear wife
mourning over her child for his loss. Yet half from
shame to confess I had gone back to Ashtead, and half
in fear of adding to his grief by telling him what
abiding love he had left, I held my peace, and we fell to
talking in false notes about the voyage, till, to our great
relief, Harry was summoned to Frank's cabin to receive
his orders for Captain John Drake. As soon as I was
alone Sergeant Culverin came up to me with his
elaborate salute.</p>
<p>'I trust you will forgive my freedom, your worship,'
said he.</p>
<p>'Forgive, Sergeant!' I answered. 'I have nothing to
forgive; I have only thanks for the good work you have
done.'</p>
<p>'Nay,' said he, 'I did nothing; no more than that
astrolabe with which Mr. Oxenham yonder is taking our
position. I was but a poor instrument for Captain
Drake to shape your courses withal.'</p>
<p>'Still I must thank you, Sergeant, from my
heart.'</p>
<p>'I pray you, sir, if you love me, say no more. Let
us pass to other things. How does this most uncivil
motion sort with your worship's stomach?'</p>
<p>'Well enough, Sergeant; does it quarrel with yours?'
I asked, for he looked a little pale.</p>
<p>'To be plain with you, sir, the sea and I are not so
good friends as we hope to become. Last night was
most evil to me in yonder fly-boat—<i>Swan</i>, they call it;
yet for liveliness Sparrow would sort better with its
nature. There was, moreover, a mariner of the watch
who would increase my load by singing continually a
most woeful, ancient ballad of pilgrims at sea. Thus it
ran, sir:—</p>
<p class="poem">
'"Thus meanwhile the pilgrims lie,<br/>
And have their bowlies fast them by,<br/>
And cry after hot Malvoisie,<br/>
Their health for to restore.<br/>
And some would have a salted toast,<br/>
For they might eat nor sodden nor roast;<br/>
A man might soon pay for their cost<br/>
As for one day or twain."<br/></p>
<p>And more very sickly stuff to like intent, sir, to a very
doleful tune.'</p>
<p>'I fear, Sergeant,' said I, 'your voyage to the Indies
will not be as pleasant as you could desire.'</p>
<p>'Indeed, sir,' said he, 'I wish we could fetch thither
a-horseback, being, as I think, the only honourable
manner of going for gentlemen. Still, since it has pleased
God to put this shifty, rude, uncourtly sea betwixt us
and the Indies, we must e'en make shift with a ship.'</p>
<p>'I am sorry for you, Sergeant,' I answered. 'A horse
indeed would have been a conveyance you better understood.'</p>
<p>'Well, it is not so much that,' said the Sergeant.
'For when I was sergeant-groom under the Signor John
Peter Pugliano, esquire of the Emperor's stables, the
word always went that a man who could manage a
horse could manage anything, save it were a woman,
by your worship's leave. So I think a ship will not
come amiss to me, being in relation to a horse but a
wet lifeless thing.'</p>
<p>'But yet, Sergeant,' said I, 'of a wholly different
nature.'</p>
<p>'I know not that, sir,' said he. 'The ancients were
wiser than we in these matters, saving your worship's
learning, and, as I have been told, placed amongst their
ensigns military the horse, as being sacred to the god
Neptune as well as to Mars, and the symbol of
immoderate fury of attack on sea as well as on land.
Moreover in your tilting of one ship against another
you have an image or imitation of the crowning glory
of horsemanship.'</p>
<p>'But we English do not use this method,' I answered,
'and hold it only fit for Turks and Spaniards, and such
like, who, having no skill in sailing and seamanship, are
compelled to use galleys propelled with oars.'</p>
<p>'Mass!' said Culverin, 'had I known that I should
have sailed even less willingly than I did. What you
say may be right, yet I hold that to sail with a lance
at your bows is the more honourable and soldierly
method. But let that pass. Doubtless by further
contemplation I shall discover further similitudes
between the horse and the ship. Since I hear what
you say, sir, I see nothing in which they are alike save
in respect of their prancing—a quality I would gladly
forego in the present case, seeing that I am like to find
little comfort in it.'</p>
<p>As we spoke Harry came out of the captain's cabin,
and Sergeant Culverin had to leave to accompany his
master back to the <i>Swan</i>. My brother, good heart, did
his best to bid me farewell as of old, but what between
my shamefacedness to see his careworn look and damped
spirit, and his own too recent sense of the great wrong I
had done him, our leave-taking was cold and formal, for
all he tried so hard to forgive.</p>
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