CHAPTER IX.

CONCERNING A STOLEN LETTER.

Timothy had given the old man a pair of cloth shoes in place of the mud-covered boots that he had worn on his walk from the village, and had himself changed his rough outdoor clothes for a suit of dark-blue frieze.

"What have we here?" questioned the baron, turning in his chair and looking towards the door.

"'Tis Master Jacob Hartop, my lord," answered Timothy, "the same who was robbed yesternight."

"That matter is settled, for the men are arrested," said his lordship with a wave of his thin white hand that was meant for a dismissal. "I have now no need of the man's evidence. You had best take him down to the town and let Justice Oldfield examine him." His eyes rested upon Hartop for a moment. "Yet stay," he added. And then, addressing Hartop, he said: "Art thou a man of Devon, prithee?"

"I am, your lordship," answered Jacob. "So please you, I am Modbury born, and did serve your lordship's family in my youth--until, my lord, your father got me a ship and I went to sea."

"How long time have you been absent from England?" Lord Champernoun asked, gazing dreamily into the fire.

"'Tis nigh upon three-and-twenty years since last I trod upon these shores," the old mariner answered.

"What is your history during all those years?" pursued the nobleman.

"A troublous one, my lord. So please you, I was one of Captain John Hawkins' men that went out with him from Plymouth in the year fifteen hundred and sixty-seven. I was his master's mate aboard the _Minion_, and was with him in his fight at San Juan de Ulloa. Captain Hawkins left me, with certain others, in Mexico, where I remained for two years, until I fell into the hands of the Spaniards, who carried me off to Spain. I was a prisoner in the Contratation House of Cadiz for twelve months, and a slave in one of the galleys of Don Andrea Doria for two years more, being present as a slave on that admiral's flag-ship at the battle of Lepanto." He broke off, glancing nervously from one to the other of the company. At the mention of the battle of Lepanto Sir Richard Grenville raised his eyebrows. No one spoke, however, and presently the old buccaneer continued:

"Transferred to one of King Philip's great galleons, I was taken once more to the Spanish Indies; but by God's providence the galleon was captured on the high seas by Captain Ned Horseley, the English buccaneer, and I was by him handed over to Captain Francis Drake. Under Drake, so please you, I served at the attack on Nombre de Dios, and at the taking of Porto Bello in the year seventy-two. Again I fell into the hands of our enemies, and was for eight long years in the Everlasting Prison Remediless in Hispaniola; since when I have been in the Indies--in Darien, in Brazil, in Virginia. I had the good fortune to come into possession of a great galleon, with which I roved the seas, making many conquests and gaining great wealth. But again I had the ill fortune to lose her. Thereafter I found my way out to the Western Indies, and have now come back from Havana in the good ship _Pearl_."

His listeners nodded and smiled as he ended his narrative.

"What say you to that, Sir Walter?" asked Lord Champernoun, turning to Raleigh.

"A goodly record, o' my conscience," returned Sir Walter. And glancing towards Hartop he added: "And so thou hast been robbed--eh, my man? Prithee, what might have been the value of your stolen property?"

Hartop hesitated and looked a little confused. At last he said, bowing to Raleigh:

"So please your honour, is it to Sir Walter Raleigh that I do now speak?"

Sir Walter Raleigh nodded. "Yes, I was asking thee the value of thy stolen goods."

"Nay, I know not precisely," answered Hartop. "It might be about the value of five or six hundred pounds in the form of pearls and emeralds and gew-gaws of such sort. But of these I care naught, for there was that in my wallet which I had rather have given my life than lose--a letter addressed to your worshipful self, that I was bidden to give with all speed into your honour's hands. I had thought it was safe in the pocket of my hose until late yesternight, but then I minded that ere I left the ship I put it into my wallet. And 'tis gone--God forgive me, 'tis gone!"

"From Havana, say you?" cried Sir Walter Raleigh doubtingly. "Prithee, who writ it?"

"Captain William Marsden, please your worship."

"Marsden?" echoed Raleigh. "But he is dead. He died ere the _Pearl_ set sail on her homeward voyage. Jasper Oglander told me so. 'Twas of a malarial fever that he died."

Hartop shook his head and rejoined very calmly: "No; so please your worship 'twas not fever. Master Oglander must surely have been misinformed, or else--" He broke off, glancing apprehensively at Lord Champernoun. "Captain Marsden was murdered, your worship, and he writ the letter, knowing beforehand that his life was menaced."

"Some treachery at work, eh?" muttered Sir Walter. "Well, and the letter. Dost know naught of its purport?"

"Naught saving the words that the captain spake as he gave it unto me," answered Hartop. "They were these: 'Guard the letter with thy life, Hartop, and let no Spaniard or friend of Spain know aught of its existence. Deliver it into the hands of Sir Walter Raleigh wheresoever he may be found, and, failing him, any one of Her Majesty's privy councillors. If thou shouldst fall into the hands of our enemies, destroy the letter. If thou shouldst lose it, which Heaven forfend, go still to Raleigh and tell him this: tell him that the King of Spain's people in the Indies have gathered together here in the treasure-houses of Havana the vastest store of silver and gold that hath ever been known upon earth, and that it is the intention of the King to have all this treasure transported into Spain, to the end that he may--in revenge for the great loss he hath lately suffered at the hands of England--build a yet greater armada than that of two years ago, wherewith to invade and conquer our Queen's dominions. Bid Sir Walter bear this in mind: that the taking of that treasure into Spain doth mean nothing short of the downfall of England and all her glory upon the seas.'"

"Yes, yes," interrupted Sir Walter, striding to and fro athwart the end of the table. "But all this I did know passing well before--although, indeed I was scarce aware that the treasure was so great. Even now at this present time Hawkins and Frobisher are lying in wait with their ships at the Azores, with intent to intercept the Spanish galleons."

"Your pardon, sir, but so please you I am not done," returned Jacob Hartop. "The more important part is to come. King Philip of Spain, it seemeth from what Captain Marsden told me, is fully aware that the English ships are even now lying in wait for his galleons; and the captain bade me tell your honour that if matters remain as they now are, those ships will continue so to lie inactive until their hulls be all eaten with the worm and their crews all dead of famine and disease."

"And how so?" demanded Raleigh in a loud voice. "Are they not as well equipped as any fleet that ever sailed out of England, quotha?"

Hartop shrank back, overawed by the great courtier's imperative manner.

"I am striving to repeat Captain Marsden's message," he said meekly; and then he went on more boldly: "Inclosed with the letter I have so unfortunately lost there was, I believe (although I of course saw it not), a copy of King Philip's own private instructions to the admiral of the plate fleet, sent out secretly to Havana. They arrived there but three days before Captain Marsden received his intelligence. Those instructions were to the effect that the galleons were to remain in Havana throughout the winter, and to set sail on the first day of the month of March next, by which time the English ships, their hulls rotten and their crews reduced by pestilence, would be too weak to offer any obstacle."

"Ah, now do I begin to perceive some daylight!" exclaimed Sir Walter Raleigh--"as much, it may be, as if I had e'en read the letter thou hast guarded so ill." He turned to Lord Champernoun. "That letter must be found," he said. "It will go ill with us if it fall into the hands of any friend of Spain. I beg thee to see to it in such wise as may seem most expedient. In the meantime--although I am sorry to abridge my so pleasant visit--I must hie me back to London. Cousin Dick," he added, nodding to Captain Grenville, "there is work for thee in this matter, I do promise thee."

Timothy Trollope had not heard this conversation. Having ushered Jacob Hartop into Lord Champernoun's presence, he had withdrawn from the library and made his way up the stairs to his young master's bedroom. The sound of merry laughter greeted him from within as he reached the door. He knocked and entered, and found Gilbert sitting up in bed with a smile on his face, and with his bandaged arm resting in a sling of brilliant red silk. The Lady Betty sat at his bedside, at work with her needle upon a piece of tapestry; Drusilla, seated on a low stool at her mother's feet, was nursing a litter of mewing kittens. Philip Oglander occupied a chair close by, and was speaking when Timothy appeared, entertaining his cousins by his descriptions of life in Brazil, of adventurous journeys through primeval forests, of horseback rides across the wide pampas, and dream-like voyages among the islands of the Antilles.

"And prithee, cousin Philip, didst never go to any school out there in those beauteous places?" asked Drusilla.

And Philip answered:

"Nay, there be neither schools nor colleges in the Brazil, saving only those which are kept up by the Jesuit fathers, and with them and their Romish fashions I could have no dealings."

"And yet thou'rt not lacking in classical knowledge," remarked Lady Betty with a smile, as she plied her busy needle; "for I heard thee but a little while since reading to Gilbert out of his book of Virgil, and it seemeth to me that thy skill in the Latin tongue doth greatly excel that of many English boys I have known who have studied at the great colleges of Oxford."

At this Philip shrugged his shoulders and affected to make light of the accomplishment, concealing the fact that it was one of those same Jesuit priests who had taught him in one of the Romish colleges of Brazil.

Lady Betty smiled at him yet again. "Thou'rt too modest, Master Philip," said she.

"Ay," added Gilbert; "but I have observed that Philip doth ever strive to avoid all vain boastfulness."

"'Tis a commendable quality," remarked his mother.

Clearly did it appear to Timothy Trollope that Philip had already won his way into the good opinion of his relatives, and that they were disposed to like him, not only because of his relationship, but also, as it seemed, because of a certain air of natural courtliness that revealed itself in his manner of speech. Moreover, there was an attraction in his dark handsome face and in his dreamy beautiful eyes which made him very winsome. Even Timothy, who had from the first taken a strong prejudice against him, could not but admit to himself that there was something of inborn nobility about the lad which might give the lie to all that old Hartop had hinted regarding him.

Later on that same day, when Sir Walter Raleigh and his retinue had departed, Timothy took horse and rode in to Plymouth to attend the examination of the two poachers before Justice Oldfield. Jacob Hartop, Bob Harvey, and Jake Thew had ridden in advance of him, and he did not overtake them until they were on the outskirts of the town, at a little wayside hostelry where their horses were stabled, and thence they walked to the court-house.

Hartop and Timothy walked together along by the harbour, when, on approaching the quay against which the good ship _Pearl_ was now lying, they came upon a crowd of men--mariners, fishermen, and merchants--who appeared to be greatly concerned in some matter which was going on in their midst.

"Ah! I can e'en guess what 'tis," said Hartop. "'Tis Captain Evans putting up our crew of blackamoors to auction. He bought 'em over in Florida, lacking better hands, to work the ship home. Ay, and a sorry lot they proved, Master Timothy. I warrant he'll get scarce a half of the price he gave for them. Thou seest the black woolly poll of the tall African who is standing upon the wine-cask close against the auctioneer? We named him Æsop, by reason of his fables. He was once upon a time the reigning king of a country nigh unto Sierra Leone, with as many wives as there be days in the year. Captain Hawkins captured him and sold him to the Spaniards. He served as our cook aboard the _Pearl_, and I promise you he made such soup as the Queen herself might relish. As for his manner of cooking a cutting from off the side of a shark, why, Lor' bless you, sir!--"

The old man broke off abruptly as a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder.

"Od's life!" exclaimed the hearty voice of Sir Francis Drake. "So 'tis thy very self, Jacob? Faith, thou'rt passing nimble on thy feet, for all thy gray hairs. And how fares it with thee, old shipmate? Hast brought thy fortune home with thee?"

"Fortune, Captain Drake?" returned Hartop, grasping the knight's proffered hand; "Lor' bless you, sir, I'd none to bring saving only a handful of precious stones that were stolen from me within an hour's time of my landing. No, the great fortune that you wot of, and the _Golden Galleon_ that carried it, now lie at the bottom of the sea--a wealthy treasure-house that hath claimed tribute from many a good ship that you and I have known, Master Drake."

Sir Francis nodded.

"True, Jacob, true," said he with a sad smile that seemed to betoken a world of melancholy memories, "and the last long home of many a goodly man of Devon that hath been our shipmates! Ay, man, and thou hast lost it, eh? Why, 'twould have made thee one of the wealthiest men in all England had it been brought home here to Plymouth. But I had e'en guessed that some such dire misfortune had befallen thee when I heard that thou hadst come hither aboard this worm-eaten old craft, the _Pearl_; for well did I know that friend Hartop must surely have been put to the hardest of shifts ere he would consent to sail i' the same vessel as Master Jasper Oglander. And, touching that matter, Jacob, how came it I pray you, that Jasper got possession of any ship of Sir Walter Raleigh's?"

"He had chartered her for the homeward voyage," answered Hartop, "and spent his last groat in victualling her. Master John Evans was our captain, the command falling to him on the death of your old friend, Will Marsden."

"'Tis a fact, then, that Will is dead?" cried Drake in a tone of surprised inquiry, as he gazed across the harbour. Then lowering his voice and touching Jacob on the shoulder he added: "Prithee, Jacob, answer me this--had he you wot of aught to do with Will's death?"

"Hush!" cautioned Hartop, suddenly gripping Drake's arm. "Here cometh Jasper himself!"

Timothy moved aside while Jasper Oglander strode along the causeway with silent tread, his eyes bent on the ground as if he were absorbed in some important business that required his deepest thought. As he passed nigh, however, he raised his eyes and looked out from under his wide sombrero hat full into Drake's face. His own face became very red, all except the scar on his cheek, which remained of a dead white colour. He quickly averted his gaze and passed on without a word, hastening his steps somewhat.

Sir Francis Drake and Jacob Hartop exchanged meaning glances.

"You see he doth still bear the mark of the cut you gave him across his craven face," remarked Hartop as he watched Jasper crossing the muddy street.

A grim smile played for a moment upon Drake's handsome, ruddy countenance as he answered:

"Ay, marry. And i' faith 'twas a pretty enough cut for him to remember me by--eh, Jacob? I warrant me he ne'er looks in his looking-glass without minding of the occasion of it. And yet methinks I might well have dealt him a severer blow without blame, for he had surely done for me outright had you not so timely warned me of his evil purpose. Dost remember, Jacob, how he came stealing aft to my cabin, with the moonlight glinting on his naked rapier--how he silently pushed open the door, and then, believing me to be slumbering, prepared to do his work?"

"Right well do I mind it," returned Hartop with a grave shake of the head. "And greatly have I marvelled ever since how it came that you let him off so easily. Any man less forgiving than yourself would assuredly have had him slung up to the yard's-arm for attempting so foul a deed."

Timothy overheard this part of the conversation, but, not wishing to seem to take interest in other people's affairs, he strode a few steps away and stood at the edge of the quay looking down upon the untidy and now deserted deck of the _Pearl_. But what he had heard had nevertheless given him occasion for reflection.

"So 'twas a falsehood he told when he declared to my father yesterday that the wound was made by an Indian's arrow," he said to himself as he leaned against the granite pillar round which one of the ship's thick ropes was bound. "I might even have guessed as much, for the cut is not one such as any arrow could make. Certes, I wonder what Master Gilbert will think of his uncle when he doth learn what manner of man he truly is! Methinks I was not so far in error, after all, when I said that I distrusted him, although 'twas no more than mere instinct that gave me that feeling concerning him. But I now have warrant for my opinion, in all conscience, and if I make not a huge mistake, some grave trouble will ere long spring out of his coming to Modbury Manor; for it seemeth that he doth intend to take up his residence in my lord's family. Ay, faith, and a mighty pretty gentleman he is to be counted one of so noble and honourable a household!"

Timothy's anxiety grew deeper and deeper as he continued to review the situation. It was not the mere discovery that Jasper Oglander was untruthful which disturbed his peace of mind. It was not even the thought that there might, after all, be some reason in the accusations which Jacob Hartop had made against him in the earlier morning. It was the reflection that, as he had just now learned, this Jasper Oglander had once treacherously attempted to take the life of Sir Francis Drake. In common with all English boys at that time Timothy Trollope had a regard for the great seaman and warrior which amounted to reverent worship. Sir Francis Drake was to him the noblest hero in all the world--a hero who could do no wrong, and who had won for England a glory that could never die; and just in proportion as he honoured and reverenced Sir Francis, so did he now detest the man who, for whatsoever cause it may have been, had attempted that hero's life.

Had Timothy been bold enough to follow Jasper Oglander instead of waiting as he now did upon the busy quay, he might have learned something more of the man's treachery. But Jasper was not the man to allow himself to be caught unawares, or to afford any stranger the slightest chance of prying into the secret matters that he had at present in hand. Having crossed the street, he walked on for a few yards looking unconcernedly about him, and then turned in at the front porchway of the Three Flagons.

Passing through the little parlour of the hostelry, where some seamen and merchants sat before the fire gossiping and drinking, he mounted the narrow dark stairs, and, arriving at the second landing, pushed open a creaking door at the end of the corridor. The room that he entered was a small, plainly-furnished apartment, in the front gable of the house, whose side walls sloped upward at a sharp angle, meeting above. A charcoal fire burned in a brazier in one of the corners, and near it on the floor a youth lay sound asleep. Jasper went up to him, listened to his breathing for a few moments, and then strode to the little casement window and looked down upon the quay where Drake and Hartop still stood talking together. He watched them until they parted, and when Timothy Trollope and Hartop had gone their way to the courthouse be glanced once more at his sleeping companion, drew a chair to the little centre table, and sat down with his elbow on the table and his head resting on his hand. Thus he remained for many minutes, ruminating.

"And yet, what should it matter to me whom the old man hath speech with?" he presently murmured, as if arguing with himself. "He can tell naught Honest clown that he is, he had not so much as looked at the letter, for the seal was unbroken. He can, therefore, know naught of its purport. I warrant me Will Marsden was too cautious a man to venture to impart his knowledge by word of mouth, and if old Hartop doth not know, no man else can know. There cannot be a person in England, saving only myself, who doth even suspect aught of His Spanish Majesty's designs. The treasure will be brought safely over to Spain, and then with a new armada well equipped we may snap our fingers at England's Drakes and Howards and her much-vaunted strength upon the seas. As for Elisabeth Tudor--we'll burn her at the stake, and a fitting end for the heretic Jezebel, say I!"

He thrust his hand into the breast of his doublet and drew forth first a little canvas bag, which he laid before him on the table, and then a soiled and crumpled sheet of paper, that was folded and refolded into a small parcel of the size of his own hand. This last he opened out in front of him. It was closely covered with writing. He glanced down the page, his eyes following his finger from line to line until he came to a little below the middle, and here he paused.

"Ay, by my faith, considering thou wert but a poor untutored mariner, thou hast put the matter exceeding well, Master Will," he muttered admiringly. "As for thy good counsel, 'twere wiser than most seamen could give. But 'tis useless now, seeing that Sir Walter Raleigh, for whom thou didst intend it, can neither receive it nor profit by it."

He stopped and shot a glance in the direction of the man lying before the fire.

"Art sleeping, Andrea?" he questioned in a low voice. But a deep-drawn breath was the only answer, and he again went on silently reading.

When he had got to the end of the paper he took it in his fingers and deliberately tore it into small shreds. He silently carried the fragments to the fire and cast them upon it, going down on his knees and blowing the charcoal into a glow until the paper caught alight and was consumed. Then, returning to the table he took up the little canvas bag, loosened its strings and poured its contents into the palm of his hand. Glistening gems they were--emeralds that were clear and green as a curling ocean wave pierced by a shaft of sunlight; sapphires that were blue as a Pacific sea that reflects the azure sky; rubies that were as drops of crimson blood; together with many beauteous pearls and other precious stones, wonderful to behold. He counted them all one by one, made a mental estimate of their value, and then, smiling with satisfaction, returned them to the bag, which he carefully tied up and as carefully hid away in the breast of his doublet.

Having done this he stepped towards the youth near the fire, and, bending down, prodded him with his finger.

"Andrea!" he said. "Andrea! Come, wake up!"

Andrea turned over, rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, and presently rose to his feet.

"Sancta Maria!" he muttered, "what a dream I have had! Methought I was engaged in a deadly duel, and that mine adversary had run me through!"

"Doubtless 'tis the recollection of your struggle with old Hartop," remarked Jasper, speaking, as the youth had done, in the Spanish tongue. "But come, what of the errand I sent you out upon two hours ago? Didst discover aught of our friends?"

"That I did," replied Andrea, "and more easily than I had expected. 'Twas my father's friend, Don Miguel Fernandes that I met. He hath been a prisoner here in this town for the past two years, with his companions to the number of five-and-twenty. Some of the less important of them are confined in a strong-built house in the centre of the town, and are under the charge of one Master Richard Drake--a kinsman of the great Dragon. But some half-dozen Castilian gentlemen--survivors of the Armada,--who were shipwrecked in Ireland, are of the number, and these, it seemeth, are permitted to go abroad for six hours every day, having given their parole."

"And who are these same gentlemen? What are their names?" inquired Jasper. And when Andrea had named them he said: "A goodly company! By the mass, a most noble company! Assuredly Spain can ill afford to let them languish here when they might so easily be at home working for His Most Christian Majesty and our Holy Mother church!" He touched the youth's shoulder and added with grave earnestness: "Look you, Andrea, these gentlemen must escape from England, and that speedily, for there is no time to be lost."

Andrea looked up surprised and eager.

"Escape!" he repeated. "Ah! but how, señor, how?"

"Nay, I know not how," answered Jasper with a shrug, "but 'tis surely possible. I only marvel how it happens that they have not themselves contrived it long since."

"Ay, but they have given their word of honour," returned Andrea; "and thou knowest as well as I that a Spanish gentleman cannot break his word."

"Pooh!" cried Jasper. "'Tis no breach of honour to break one's word to heretics! But leave the matter to me, and, by our Lady, I'll contrive it, in spite of Drake and all of them." He broke off and glanced towards the door, which had been opened. A young negro woman stood upon the threshold. "What want you, Catalina?" he demanded.

She answered him in halting Spanish, saying that the señora her mistress had heard his voice, and had sent her in to ask him if it was his wish that she should make herself ready for the journey to Modbury.

"Tell the señora that we start in half an hour's time," said he; and then he turned to Andrea to further discuss the matter of the Spanish prisoners of war.