CHAPTER XLII.

THE LOVER AND THE SPY.

"O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps, And now falls on her bed."--Shakespeare.

The approaching vessels had been descried already from the ships of Howard, who fired a cannon to quicken his boat; and the moment it was on board and hoisted in, with its provisions he desired all to be cleared away for battle, and ordered Borthwick to attend him in his cabin.

"Well, thou bird of ill omen," said he, while arming himself, "what evil wind hath blown thee on board the _Harry_ to-night? Speak out, and briefly, too; try none of thy cobler tricks with me."

"I have come with a message from the Lords at Leith----"

"Ah! they are there, then; and the rumours we have heard are true: has the King of Scotland fought a battle and been defeated?"

"Yes, and hath fled, no man knows whither," said Borthwick, with a dark smile on his pale face, while he could not repress a twinge of uneasiness at the mention of the king's name, for he saw ever before him--when alone for a moment--that ghastly corpse, lying where he had flung it, in the ditch beside the Bannock.

"And so young Rothesay now is king," said Howard, sadly, and pausing while he braced his corslet.

"No--nor can be, until we ascertain that the king, his father, is dead."

"Of course; well, and what want your rebel lords with me?"

"I should have said Sir Patrick Gray."

"Well, well--speak quickly; for the foe comes on. Your message----"

"Concerns the Lady Margaret Drummond, and your bond in cipher with the Scottish friends of King Henry."

"Well," said Howard again, buckling his waist-belt with a furious jerk; "what of them?"

"Wood is about to attack you, and you must be well aware that if the _Harry_ is taken, and these are found on board--the lady and the bond,--the hope of Henry's alliance will be crushed by her being discovered, and the safety of his allies in Scotland will be compromised by the documents."

"The curse of all the saints be on King Henry's plots and on those Scottish cravens who pander to the pay, the wiles, and selfish ends of England!" said Howard, with great bitterness. "Well, fellow, and what would your Laird of Kyneff advise?"

"That this troublesome dame be hove overboard, with Master Kraft's writings and the deep-sea lead tied together to her neck----"

"Confound thee, thou limb of Satan!--thou infamous and lubberly lurdane!" cried Howard, in a tempest of rage at this terrible proposition. "Begone," he added, smiting Borthwick on the mouth with his steel glove; "begone, sheer off; or by all that is sacred in heaven, I will have thee bound to a kedge, and flung overboard like St. Clement! Yoho there, Will Selby!" he said to his page, who stood without the cabin, "is that fisher-boat, which we took off Tyningham sands, astern yet?"

The page replied that it was.

"Then see this ruffian put into her; give the two fishermen a handful of tokens, and bid them cast off and begone, in the devil's name, lest I hang this recreant Scot where I fain would hang his masters."

In two minutes after this our knight of the scarlet mantle found himself hustled over the side of the _Harry_ into a shore-boat, in which were two poor fishermen, who, after receiving a handful of those leaden pledges which the English used in the time of their seventh and eighth Henries in lieu of copper coinage, gladly pulled away for Tyningham Sands, where their wives and children had been waiting for them in sore apprehension and weeping the livelong day. Anxious to get clear of the engagement which was to take place, they stepped their mast, hoisted their sail, and prayed hard to St. Bey for a favourable breeze; but little wind came, and even that was against them; so they bequeathed the poor saint to the devil, spat on their hands, and betook them to their oars, like men.

"Thank Heaven, my ship is freed from the contamination of such a wretch," said Howard; "though 'twere not worth while to lose my temper with him. By St. George, I profit little by old Caxton's 'Book of Good Manners;' though I have studied it more than stars or compass since Margaret Drummond came on board."

The handsome Howard was now completely armed, and presented himself at the cabin of Margaret, whose attendants, Cicely and Rose, had acquainted her of the dire preparations making on deck overhead. Sorrow and confinement had rendered her so pale that she was like a beautiful marble statue, and her exceeding fairness was rendered stronger by her dark purple dress, and the triangular cap of the same material which shaded her fine hair, the locks of which shone like golden tresses in the light of the cabin lamp. On beholding Howard in his armour she started forward to meet him.

"Dear madam," said he, "I am come--to--to--"

"To restore me to my family," said Margaret, with sweet earnestness; "is it not so? you will--you will do so now; for I have been told that the king's admiral approaches to demand me."

"Nay, lady, I came but to convey you to a place of safety," paid he; "you are misinformed, for none in Scotland (three villains excepted) know that you are here, or that you are in the land of the living. The king was accused of abducting you, and he has lost a bloody battle near Stirling, fought by the nobles."

"And my father fought against him?"

"Very probably."

Margaret clasped her white hands in fear and misery.

"And what tidings are there of the Duke of Rothesay?"

"I have heard of none," said Howard, on whom that name when uttered by her lips, fell as a mortal blight. "Lady Drummond, we are about to engage in a close, and, it must be, desperate conflict, with the king of the Scottish mariners, and it may be that you will never again be troubled by the voice or presence of Edmund Howard. Oh, think over all I have dared to urge, during the many days it has been my happiness to know you and to seek your esteem. You know my secret; say, if I survive to-night, may I hope for something more than friendship?"

"Your secret," reiterated Margaret, as her fine blue eyes filled with tears; "alas, fair sir, you know not _mine_. I admire and most sincerely respect you, Edmund Howard; but more I dare not say--so, I beseech you, cease to urge me further on this most painful subject."

"True, true," said Howard, beating his breast, "I have indeed but little to offer you compared with what you have lost. It may be weakness----"

"The weakness of the strong man and of the gallant heart."

"Alas! in love we ever carry more sail than ballast--who can control the heart in love----"

"If you knew _all_, you never again would address me thus. Oh, talk not of love to me--it is in vain, nor dare I listen."

"Alas, that I should hear this doom from your own lips at last, lady! I will quit this wandering life of mariner, for I have one of those happy homes that are only to be found in England; where the woods are green, and our painted windows open down to soft and sunny lawns, instead of iron grates that grimly peer through deep fosses and guarded barbicans, as here in Scotland, lady. There no rude barons, or lawless lairds, ride from tower to tower with spears and torches in their train, no hostile clansmen wage eternal war, making their life but a mission of military vengeance and feudal hatred; and there no venal peers are ever ready to sell their country and their king, her rights or her honour for foreign gold. Oh no; in merry England we know nothing of transmitted hatred, of Highland raids and border forays. I love you, lady, well, and, with you, I fain would share that quiet English home; I love you passionately, and denial is death, and worse than death to me! and I say so now when on the eve of battle with one who was never foiled or vanquished on the sea. In that happy home, if spared to see it, I could worship you as a monk who serves his altar, and treasure you as a miser hoards his treasure. Oh do not turn from me as if I was hateful," continued Howard, borne away by his passion and finding eloquence in the very depth of it; "'tis true I am an Englishman, lady, and that you are a Scot--but can a few miles of land or of water make such an evil difference in our tempers or our race----"

"Oh no, it is not hate that makes me turn away, but true sorrow for yourself, my good and noble Howard," said Margaret, as she pressed his hands in hers; for his honest passion and gentle bearing touched her to the soul, and no woman ever hears a man say he loves her without feeling a more than common interest in him; but happily for both, this painful interview was cut short by the stentorian voice of John o'Lynne, who cried through the poop door,--

"Yoho, Captain Howard; the Scots are within a mile of us and bring down the breeze with them, and it freshens fast."

This reminded Howard of what he had forgotten,--that he had come, not to make love, but to conduct his fair prisoner and her two pretty attendants, Rose and Cicely, to a place of security, which he now proceeded to do. They were accordingly conducted between-decks, amid a tremendous uproar, for in one quarter Dick Selby was hoisting up shot and powder from the magazine, in another, boxes, chests, and bulkheads were going down, and hammocks being triced up, while the shrill whistle of the boatswain, the swearing and noise of the seamen, made the place terrible to them; and from the lower deck they descended by a ladder and the light of a lantern into a dreary and Cimmerian gulf, from which arose the combined odours of bilge and rancid beef, stale cheese, tarry ropes, and other agreeable perfumes, such as usually pervade the region of the cockpit. And there, in a curtained and cushioned berth, below the water-line, he left them to their prayers, and with a sigh ascended to the maindeck of the _Harry_; and then his spirit rose as he breathed more freely.

"Dick Selby,--up with the battle-lanterns, and beat to quarters!" said he: "John o'Lynne, make sail on the ship; see, the _Cressi_ will first engage these petulant Scots; stand to your culverins, my lads fore and aft, if you would not brook a Scottish prison, oatmeal, and iron fetters, before we see merry England again!"

And bravely every man in the good ship _Harry_ stood by his gun, and drew tighter the buckles of his helmet and girdle.