CHAPTER LVIII.

DOUBT, FEAR, AND SECRECY

"Oh, sweet Margaret! oh, rare pale Margaret! What lit your eyes with tearful power, Like moonlight on a falling shower?"--TENNYSON.

Since the day when the English prisoners were presented to James IV. at Leith, Euphemia and her sister Sybilla had no opportunity of meeting, or even seeing Barton, or Falconer. They were kept in strict seclusion at their father's mansion in Dundee, while their lovers were compelled to remain as much as possible on board their ships, owing to the dangers that menaced them ashore; for the unscrupulous emissaries of Drummond, Home, and the new-made Earl of Bothwell, were ever on the watch for them; moreover, their presence was constantly required during the refitting consequent to the late engagement and the projected voyage to Brest.

These repairs were conducted at the New Haven above Leith, where the king's dockyards were then established.

James IV., about 1512, had no less than forty-six ships of war built here and elsewhere; one of these, the _Great Michael_, was the largest vessel in the known world; she carried a thousand men, was two hundred and forty feet long, and cost £40,000--an enormous sum in those days. For the accommodation of the workmen, at Sir Andrew Wood's suggestion, he built a chapel dedicated to Our Lady and St. James, the eastern window and gable of which are yet remaining in the Vennel of New Haven. If Scotland, in 1512, could equip such a fleet, before the value of her vast iron mines, her forests of fir and oak, and the convenience of her deep bays and salt lakes were known, what a noble armament could she now launch upon the waters of the Tay and Clyde!

Margaret Drummond, though happy in her restoration to her royal husband (who was making every requisite preparation for espousing her publicly on his coronation day, after the arrival of the papal dispensation), never mentioned that her sisters had lovers of more humble pretensions, who were known only to their own family circle. Her father had laid her and them under the most stern injunctions of secrecy, and thus the young king believed that his two beautiful sisters-in-law were the affianced brides of Home and Bothwell; and though he had no great admiration for the characters of those turbulent and unlettered lords, he had no desire to excite dissension anew by seeking other spouses for Euphemia and Sybilla.

Thus overawed by their parent, the sisters locked the secret in their own breasts, and were miserable; for this old, habitual terror of their father was mingled with the love and respect which were due to him, and united to a long foreknowledge of his unbounded pride, his imperious spirit, his calculating ambition, and his haughty will, which had never, since the hour of his birth, been thwarted, and which made him follow to the death any man who dared to mar, in the most trifling manner, the plots he wove and the plans he laid for the aggrandizement of himself and his family.

Confident in the young king's chivalric and generous character, Barton and Falconer, with the natural bluntness of their profession, would at once have sought an interview, told their story, and claimed his patronage and protection; but the king was at Stirling one day, at Falkland the next, at Dundee the third, and thus no proper opportunity was afforded to them; the ships were soon reported as ready for sea; De Concressault came on board, with all his train, under three salvoes of cannon, as ambassador of France; and the _Yellow Frigate_ and the _Flower_ got under way; and the reader may easily conceive the emotions of Barton and Falconer when sailing on this expedition, and leaving their loves behind them while so many evil influences combined to cast a shadow on their hopes.

Indeed, both sailed with the most firm and melancholy conviction that, long before their return, either by fear, coercion, or despair, or by all three combined, Euphemia would be Lady Home, and Sybilla Countess of Bothwell.

Their growing sadness and their many communings could not escape the quick eyes of the old Admiral, who had been closely observing them, one day in particular, as he was taking an observation with the cross-staff, during a bright sunshine that equally favoured the operations of Father Zuill, who was hard at work levelling his lenses, mirrors, and parabolic speculum against the sails of a fisher-boat, which he was vainly endeavouring to ignite, an experiment which, if successful, would no doubt have excited considerable surprise and consternation in the mind of the unconscious proprietor thereof. The kind Admiral, who knew well the secrets of the two friends, endeavoured to reassure them, and laugh their fears away.

"Alas, Admiral," said Falconer, "I never can forget that all my fortune is in my scabbard; that my prospects of success at home are now more dim and distant since the late king's death, and how can I hope to be the brother-in-law of his son? Oh, it is all vanity and madness in me--this passion for Lord Drummond's daughter! Yet I know that Sybilla loves me; thus I cannot abandon her while life remains, otherwise, I would not return with you from France, but would enlist in the Scottish archers, or offer my sword to Robert of Patulloch, or the Mareschal de Concressault, and seek fortune in the wars of Charles VIII. These nobles at home will prove too strong for us in the end, Barton!"

"In their eyes no deed, however brave, can gild a humble birth; and no shame is so deep as a lowly name!" said Barton.

"Well, and is not this a wisdom in the titled blockheads, after all," said the Admiral; "for they know that, in respecting high birth and sounding titles, they are but paying a compliment to themselves and enhancing their own value."

"To conceive it possible that my gentle Sybilla may be _forced_--yea, in free Scotland, forced like a Danish serf, to marry a man who cannot appreciate her goodness and excellence."

"There is no man so low in the scale of humanity--not even among the rebel lords," said Barton.

"Poor Sybilla--how I love her!"

"This were vast presumption in Strathearn, Davie," said the Admiral; "but here, on the deck of the _Yellow Frigate_, is only natural and just,--a great lord's daughter though she be. But tush, man! is this the way for a stout fellow to pule and sadden like a pitiful scaramouche? If these damosels wed in your absence, my lads, remember there are gude fish in the salt sea, as ever came out of it; a rusty anchor and a rotten cable are not worth the upheaval; and so, gadzooks! if they miss stays and get stranded in your absence, let them e'en go, with God's blessing, and bear ye away for a fairer haven and more seaworthy consorts."

Consolation of this kind was about as good as none; but time wore on--day succeeded day. After passing the straits of Dover without seeing any sign of a hostile English fleet, which rumour said was preparing to intercept them, and after running down the English Channel, the two Scottish caravels doubled the point then named by the French the _End of the World_, as no land was known to the westward of it, and arrived in safety at Brest in Brittany.

This, though one of the best harbours in Europe, was then but a small seaport or village, dependent on the town of Sainte Renan.

After exchanging salutes with the Castle of Brest, and being royally feasted by the abbot and monks of its rich Benedictine abbey, the Scottish admiral bade adieu to the Sieur de Concressault (who began his journey to court), and again put to sea.

Passing between the Isle of Ushant and the mainland, he bore away for Sluys, on another mission from the court of Scotland to the Flemings, concerning that commercial dispute, which, natheless the casks of Dutch heads, pickled by Andrew Barton, it was believed no man in Scotland was better able to adjust than Sir Andrew Wood of Largo.