Part 14 (1/2)
”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 s.h.i.+pmates! 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 s.h.i.+fts 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 s.h.i.+p 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?”
”Hus.h.!.+” 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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-gla.s.s 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 a.s.suredly 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 wis.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+p'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 n.o.ble 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 wors.h.i.+p. Sir Francis Drake was to him the n.o.blest 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.
Pa.s.sing 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 cas.e.m.e.nt 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!”