CHAPTER XIII.

OUTWARD BOUND.

The _Revenge_ lay at anchor in the midst of many merchant ships, pinnaces, and fly-boats,--a very gallant ship, with her carved and gilded bulwarks, with her tall, stout masts, with her silken, swallow-tailed banners flying from her masts and yards, her great standard, bearing the royal arms, at her forecastle. At her maintop the glorious flag of St George's Cross was fluttering in the breeze--the flag under which so many great seamen had beforetime traded, explored, and fought in England's honour, that Drake and Cavendish had borne round the world, that Lancaster carried to the East Indies and Frobisher to the far north; the flag that had blown triumphant against the Spaniards off Gravelines three years before this time, and that was destined soon to wave with less good fortune though not with less glory over the shot-torn wreck of the _Revenge_ herself.

Gilbert had been on board many times during the past two weeks while the business of preparation and victualling was in progress. He had explored the vessel from stem to stern, from the high, square forecastle, where the bowsprit rose steeply upward, and carried at its outer end a small mast with its sprit-topsail; and back aft to the sloping quarter-deck and the higher poop-deck, where a narrow strip of railed platform ran athwart from side to side above the water. He had been below to the main-deck where the heaviest guns were carried, and below that again to the lower deck that was dark and airless as a pit. He had even climbed the tall main-mast and stood upon the gallery, whence in time of battle the ship's archers and musketeers were wont to shoot down upon their enemy alongside. He would willingly have climbed the bonaventure mast also, and crept up to the high peak of the long lateen yard that towered aloft above the ship's stern lantern, but one of the men in authority had warned him against the danger of such an attempt.

Now, when he mounted the ladder at the vessel's side and passed through the gangway upon the main-deck, he was met by Roland Grenville, who was arrayed in all the bravery of a new shining corselet, a pair of new leathern trunk-hose, a coarse blue cloth doublet, and a wide seaman's hat. Roland greeted him heartily, bade him salute the quarter-deck, and then conducted him below to the large cabin, reserved for what were in those days called gentlemen volunteers, most of whom were young men of good families, who entered the naval service not as actual officers or midshipmen but as captain's servants. For in Queen Elizabeth's time it was customary for each captain of a man-of-war to be allowed two personal servants for every fifty of his crew. Such servants or cabin-boys were almost invariably recruited from among the captain's relations, friends, or followers. Sir Richard Grenville had in this manner appointed his own son Roland and Master Gilbert Oglander.

When the two lads had eaten some ship's biscuits and bacon, and drunk between them a tankard of small ale, they went out upon the upper deck and loitered there for a while, until Gilbert requested his companion to show him over the ship and tell him about her guns. Young Grenville, having already spent some three years upon the sea, could point out all matters of interest, and explain the uses of all maritime instruments and implements of warfare. He was himself a very skilful gunner, and he took especial delight in showing Gilbert the ship's ordnance.

The _Revenge_ mounted forty "great ordnance" of brass, including cannon-royal, demi-cannon, and culverins for firing a broadside. Of these the cannon-royal were the largest, having a range of a mile's distance, weighing four tons, and being twelve feet in length. Their mouths gaped through the round portholes of the main-deck. The demi-cannon were a foot longer, but a ton lighter. But in many parts of the vessel there were other smaller swivel-guns, such as sakers, falcons, minions, fowlers, and murdering-pieces. The murdering-pieces were mounted one on the after part of the forecastle and the other on the fore part of the poop, and they pointed inboard, so that their shot might be discharged into the midst of the enemy when attempting to board her.

"But these guns in especial are not ofttimes used," explained Roland Grenville, "for you must know, Oglander, that in these days our sea-fights come but seldom to a matter of boarding. 'Tis rarely I have seen great execution done with them; no, nor even with the bow and arrow, small-shot, or the sword. I am not sure, indeed, that in the whole course of the Armada fight there was a single occasion on which the Spaniards gained a footing on an English deck. The battle was chiefly gained by our great artillery breaking down masts and yards, tearing, raking, and bilging the enemy's ships."

There were many things for Gilbert to see and to admire: the racks where the arquebuses were kept, the bows of divers shapes and sizes and the cases of arrows, the pikes, the granadoes, the piles of hollow brass balls and earthen pots covered with quarter bullets and filled with gunpowder, which, as Roland explained, would make an incredible slaughter in a crowd of Spaniards; the stacks of crossbar, langrel and chain shot, and the many implements for wild-fire, wherewith to strike burning into a ship's side to fire her. And, finally, the powder magazines and the rows of hanging cartridge-cases, in which, during an action, the ship's boys were wont to carry up the gunpowder to the gunners.

They went forward into the seamen's quarters, where they found a motley crew of mariners--many of them well-tried voyagers with gray hairs and weather-beaten faces, many burly men of war, who bore in their scarred cheeks and broken limbs the traces of bygone battles. Some were young lads starting full joyously on their first enterprise, and among them, too, were many lawless fellows, pirates and robbers, who had been taken out of Plymouth prison and forced upon the ship, in the foolish belief that when removed from the scenes of their past misdeeds they would change into good and peaceful servants. The crew had been on board some two days, and now they were lying about in lazy groups, regaling themselves with the ale that had been served out to them, making a better acquaintance with each other, and boasting of the great things they had done, and the yet greater things they expected to do in this coming voyage.

When Roland and Gilbert entered the cabin, one Edward Webbe, a gunner, of London, was telling of his adventures in foreign lands. A man of some forty years was he, but he looked much older by reason of the privations and perils through which he had gone.

"Moreover," he was saying, "in the land of Egypt, near to the river of Nile, there are seven mountains builded on the outside like unto the point of a diamond, which mountains were builded in King Pharaoh's time for to keep corn in, and they are mountains of great strength. In that same river of Nile there be long fishes that are of twelve foot long, with marvellous great mouths and long tails, and hides hard as the sole of my boot. These fishes are so subtle that, swimming near the shore-side, they will pull men and women suddenly into the river and devour them."

"Why, they be sharks, surely," remarked one who sat near him.

"Nay," corrected Jacob Hartop from the dark corner where he was sitting mumbling a ship's biscuit. "I have seen such animals myself out in Virginia, where we called them alligators. But, prithee, continue with your recital, neighbour. Did ye not say that ye had been to the land of Prester John?"

"Yea," proceeded Edward Webbe; "and this Prester John of whom I spake before is a king of great power and keepeth a very bountiful court, after the manner of that country, and hath every day to serve him at his table sixty kings, wearing leaden crowns on their heads, and these serve in the meat to Prester John's table. And continually the first dish of meat set upon the table is a dead man's skull, clean picked and laid in black earth; putting him in mind that he is but earth, and that he must die and shall become earth again."

"Ay, a marvellous country truly," interrupted Hartop, "as I do know full well, who have been there. And I doubt not, Master Webbe, that, having travelled in those lands, you have also known somewhat of the Turks, eh?"

"Right well have I known them," returned Webbe with a rueful head-shake. "And because I was a Christian, and because the Turk had no cause to use me in my office of gunnership, I was imprisoned in Constantinople, where I found two thousand other prisoners and captives, Christians all of them, who were pinned up against stone walls, locked fast in iron chains, grievously pinched, with extreme penury. And I do avow that many times we wished for death rather than in such misery to live, and grieved at our hard hap that the wars had not ended us ere we came thither."

"Ay, right well I know such misery," said Jacob Hartop rising from his seat, and, thrusting forward his bared left arm he added: "Look you at this, neighbour!" He pointed with one finger at a depression in his wrist, which showed where the iron chains had been bound. As he stood forward he caught sight of Roland Grenville and Gilbert Oglander in the doorway, and he touched his gray forelock in salutation. At the same moment there came the shrill sound of a whistle from the main-deck.

"'Tis the muster-call," cried Roland Grenville. "Come, my lads, tumble up, one and all!" and he waited by the door as they all filed past him, and smiled as he regarded their strangely-assorted attire. Many were raggedly clothed; some looked as if they had but lately come from off the ploughed fields, others still wore their fishermen's jackets, that yet had clinging to them the shining scales of the herring; and others again were gaily set out in the bravery of new suits of doublet and hose and clean ruffs and long mariners' boots. Gilbert Oglander had gone out beyond the door to watch them take their respective places in ranks upon the upper-deck, but young Grenville remained behind until the last of them had passed out. He glanced into the cabin they had left to assure himself that none had remained, and in one of the far corners, which was in deep shadow, he observed a movement. He called out, believing for the moment that one of the men lay there dazed with over-much ale, but there was no answer, and the dark form that he had taken for a bundle of humanity was silent and still. He stepped towards it and prodded it with his foot. There was no response, and he saw only a heavy seaman's cloak and the corner of a biscuit bag.

"Tut!" said he to himself. "I could almost have sworn 'twas a man lying there. And yet I might have seen that 'twas too small." And he turned to the door with a light laugh and went out upon the open deck.

Scarcely had he turned his back when the bundle moved yet again, a corner of the cloak was raised, and a pair of bright eyes peered out from a round boyish face, and a boyish voice murmured:

"Dear heart, I thought he'd discovered me! 'Twas Master Grenville, as I live! Lord send he cometh not back ere the ship hath begun to sail!"

Sir Richard Grenville had come on board, having spent some hours that afternoon in consultation with the admiral and the various captains of the squadron; and now when his own ship's company had been mustered he stood at the forward rail of the quarter-deck looking down at the sea of faces on the upper deck below him. His captain and lieutenants, arrayed in their best, stood apart from him, while the ship's preacher in his sombre black gown and white ruffle and scholar's cap sat near on the carriage of the murderer-gun, sedately turning over the leaves of his prayer-book.

The crew were all ranked in order, according to their several stations. The warrant-officers stood in groups apart from the seamen, for they were persons of great importance on board. The sailing-master, Ambrose Pennington, and his mates, who were responsible for the navigation of the ship, were indeed next in rank to the lieutenants; the corporal was also a great man, for it was his duty to look after the small-arms and musketeers' equipment, and to exercise the men-at-arms. The master-gunner and his mates, of whom one was Jacob Hartop and another Edward Webbe, had the duty of keeping the guns in good order, of seeing to their tackle, and also of looking after the powder-room or magazine, and the gun-room, where the small-arm ammunition was stored. The master-carpenter and his mates were to attend to the repairs and general state of the vessel's hull, to see to the plugging of shot-holes in action, the pumps and caulking, and the masts and yards, while the boatswain and his mates had charge of the ropes, rigging, cables, anchors, sails, and flags, superintending the men at their stations, setting the watches and carrying out punishments. Then, too, there were the purser, the quarter-masters, and the swabber. This last officer had the work of seeing to the ship being kept clean within and without above water, and he was answerable for the men keeping their persons clean.

The positions held by the members of the crew were in those days as many and various as in our own navy. The surgeon was not accounted of high rank, his wages being but twenty shillings a month, which was the same amount as that received by the trumpeter. There were drummers, cooks, yeomen of the sheets, yeomen of powder, stewards, armourers, and many other qualifications; and lastly, there were the seamen and gromets, or ship's boys. The whole ship's company of the _Revenge_ numbered two hundred and fifty all told.

Sir Richard Grenville inspected them all from where he stood. His eyes searched into each man's face as he answered to his name called out by the purser from his roll, and if there was aught of doubt as to the man's appearance of fitness, he was bidden to stand forward so that the general might have a nearer sight of him, and, if need were, question him. But all had been well chosen in so far as their bodily health could be judged; and if some did indeed appear to be rough and ill-kempt and of an idle sort, Sir Richard still passed them, knowing full well that rogues do ofttimes prove to be good and true men when 'tis a question of fighting for England's glory and advancement on the seas.

"And now, my men," said their leader when the roll had come to an end, "I would say a word to ye ere I dismiss ye to your quarters. We are bound, as ye all doubtless know, to the islands of the Azores, where 'tis our purpose to intercept and lay capture to certain of the Spaniards' treasure-ships coming back to Spain from the Indies. My Lord Thomas Howard is our chief and admiral, to lead the expedition, by the appointment of her most gracious Majesty the Queen--"

"God bless her!" cried someone from the midst of the crowd, and the cry was taken up by many voices repeating the words "God bless the Queen!"

"But aboard this ship, and for the continued honour of this ship, which hath already done so much good service for England, ye are to understand that your duty is one of constant and unvaried obedience to your officers, whose word is your law."

He paused for a moment, looking out over the water to the _Defiance_, whose anchors were already up, and whose sails were one by one taking the wind.

"And," he went on, turning again to the men, "for as much as the good success and prosperity of every action doth consist in the due service and glorifying of God, and that not only our being and preservation but the prosperity of all our actions and enterprises do immediately depend on His Almighty goodness and mercy, it is provided now as heretofore that all the company, as well officers as others, shall duly repair every day twice at the call of the ship's bell to hear public prayers to be read, such as are authorized by the Church, and that in a godly and devout manner, as good Christians ought. Finally, I would have you to observe this ordinance, which hath ever been observed upon the ships which I have commanded, namely, that no man, be his provocation whatsoever it may, shall swear by the name of God or use any profane oath, or blaspheme His holy name."

He drew back a step and turned to the preacher.

"Give 'em a prayer, parson," said he; "but be brief, I adjure you, for we must up anchor and be off."

At this Sir Richard took off his plumed hat and dropped it on the deck at his feet, and stood with his hands clasped before him and his head reverently bowed. His example was followed by his officers, and when the preacher went forward to the rail of the little pulpit that was at the front of the quarter-deck and held up his hands, the crowd upon the upper deck became suddenly silent. Each man bared his head and clapped his rough right hand over his eyes, as the chaplain's solemn voice rang out with the words:

"_Oh, eternal Lord God, who alone spreadest out the heavens and rulest the raging of the sea; who hast compassed the waters with bounds until day and night come to an end; be pleased to receive into thy Almighty and most gracious protection the persons of us thy servants and the fleet in which we serve. Preserve us from the dangers of the sea and from the violence of the enemy, that we may be a safeguard unto our most gracious sovereign lady, Queen Elizabeth, and her dominions, and a security for such as pass the seas upon their lawful occasions; that the inhabitants of our Island may in peace and quietness serve thee our God: and that we may return in safety to enjoy the blessings of the land with the fruits of our labours, and with a thankful remembrance of thy mercies to praise and glorify thy holy name, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen._"

The parson remained with uplifted hands, Sir Richard Grenville looked up for a moment.

"Enough, man," he said, "enough. George Fenner hath catted his anchor. Duffield is already under sail." But the parson did not heed him, and on hearing the words "_Our Father_" Grenville again assumed the attitude of devotion and waited until the final "_Amen_". Then turning to his captain he gave a word of instruction, the word was passed down, and immediately there was a hurry and bustle among the crew. Some climbed up to the yards and began to shake out the sails, others sped to the capstans, while others attended to getting on board the ship's boats.

Lord Thomas Howard's flag-ship, the _Defiance_, led the way into the Sound. She was followed closely by the great ship of Sir Robert Cross--the _Bonaventure_. Then at some distance went Captain Fenner's _Lion_, Captain Vavasour's _Foresight_, and Captain Duffield's _Crane_. Some of the smaller vessels of the fleet, the private adventurers which had been contributed to the expedition by Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir George Carey, and other gentlemen, sailed out in the train. Among these were the _George Noble_ of London, the _Pilgrim_ of Plymouth, and the _Bark Raleigh_.

The _Revenge_ was the last to leave Plymouth harbour, for, being commanded by the vice-admiral, her place was in the rear. But her sailing powers were greater than those of any other ship in the squadron, and she might easily have overhauled her fastest consort had her master so willed. Some of the heavily-laden victuallers were overtaken even at the mouth of Plymouth Sound. One of them, the _Pilgrim_, was close beside her as they entered the open sea at sunset-time, and Gilbert Oglander, who was at the moment climbing down the ladder stairs from the quarter-deck, paused in his descent and looked over the bulwarks down upon her decks. He could see the faces of her crew. He could see Captain Whiddon on her poop deck, pacing to and fro from rail to rail.

Gilbert was wondering why it was that seamen invariably had this habit, when suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by sounds from behind him on the upper deck. He turned, and saw a little crowd of men at the foot of the main-mast. Some of them were laughing, others were loudly talking as they bent over some object on the deck that seemed to be the cause of their concern. As Gilbert approached the crowd broke up, and he perceived old Jacob Hartop standing there holding a little boy by the ear.

"Ay, but how came ye aboard, my lad?" Jacob was asking, looking into the boy's tearful face.

"In a boat, so please you, sir," replied the boy. "In the same boat with yourself, Master Hartop."

"Nay, but I saw you not," returned Jacob. "I saw you not, else, be assured, I'd have sent you back instanter to your mother. What think you the poor soul will do when she findeth you have not come home?"

"I had but one thought," said the lad, looking up, "and that was to get on board the _Revenge_ with Master Gilbert Oglander."

It was at this moment that Gilbert entered the crowd and heard his name spoken. He glanced at the boy.

"Body o' me!" he cried. "Why, 'tis young Robin Redfern of Modbury village! How comes he here?"

"Ay, 'tis Robin himself, truly," said Jacob Hartop, turning at hearing Gilbert's voice. "He hath a mind to fight for the Queen, he says, so smuggled himself aboard. Master Roland Grenville found him stowed away below, and hath now gone to inform Sir Richard. I saw the child myself on Sutton quay, ay, and spake with him, but I'd no notion that he meant to follow us on board. 'Tis foolish in him, as I have told him, for a lad so young is but an encumbrance on a ship of battle."

"Nay, but I mean to work," protested Robin. "I'll work hard. Sure there be many things I can do, Master Hartop." And then as he saw Sir Richard Grenville emerging from one of the doors at the farther end of the deck he began to cry very piteously, as though fearing that he must surely be severely punished.

"What have we here?" demanded Sir Richard.

"So please your honour, 'tis a boy," explained one of the men.

"Ay, I can well see 'tis not a horse," said the admiral; and then plying the boy with many questions, and learning that he was from Modbury, he turned to Gilbert Oglander: "Take him into your personal charge, Master Oglander," said he. "Let him be your serving-boy, or a powder-boy, or what you like; and bid the purser enter him on the ship's books. As for his mother, 'tis a pity for her that most concerns me, and I would have you inscribe a letter to her, and throw it overboard in a bottle, which may haply be picked up by some passing fishing-boat." And with that he strolled back aft towards his cabin, where he remained secluded until late on the following morning.

Now as Gilbert passed again along the deck he looked over to the land, as he had done many times already, in the hope of being able to make out the towers of Modbury Manor in the far distance. Many a time had he stood in the upper room of one of those towers to watch the ships sailing outward from Plymouth Sound, and now for the first time he hoped to reverse the process and try to discover his home from the ship's deck. It was no very easy matter, in the fading light of the evening, to identify any house so far away; but Modbury stood upon a height and was prominent enough if one knew exactly where to look for it. At last, however, he descried the topmost tower above the trees; he could even see the tall flag-staff, with the flag fluttering in the breeze. He kept his eyes fixed upon the flag for many moments, believing that it had been hoisted for his own benefit as a signal of farewell. But at last he began to realize that for some strange reason it had not been drawn fully up to the top of the staff--that indeed it had been hoisted half-mast high. And this, as he well knew, was a token of death. A pang of alarm shot through him; he felt suddenly very desolate and lonely. Again and again he turned his eyes upon the flag, hoping that he had made a mistake. As he stood there Roland Grenville passed near him.

"What, art home-sick so soon?" said he with a light laugh.

Gilbert was silent for a moment, and at length, pointing to the land, he said:

"Look to the flag on Modbury tower yonder. I beg you look at it and tell me if my sight deceiveth me. Is't not flying at the half-mast?"

"Ay, in very sooth, 'tis so," returned young Grenville. "I can see it plainly. Someone is surely dead--Ah, the trees hide it now!"

"Heaven send 'tis not my grandfather!" cried Gilbert. "I cannot believe 'tis he, for I left him hale and well. And yet I can think of none else."

"Mayhap 'tis your uncle Jasper," suggested Roland.

But Gilbert shook his head, remembering Jasper's vigorous strength.

"No," he said; "it cannot be uncle Jasper."

"Then 'tis your cousin Philip, I warrant me," said Grenville. "The lad hath met with some mishap on the hare-brained journey that you told me of. Said you not that he went off on horseback, and that you had not heard news of him for two full days? 'Tis clearly he."

And arguing with himself that night as he lay in the ship's cabin, sleepless and sick at heart, Gilbert came to the conclusion that this was so. He surmised that Philip had been thrown from his horse, or had come into some quarrel with highway vagabonds and had been brought home to Modbury dead. Little did he dream that Philip Oglander was now on board the _Pearl_ on his way to Spain; little did he dream that his grandfather now lay dead in his great room at Modbury Manor; and as little did he dream that now at this same moment he was himself the only Baron Champernoun.