'Gainst the might of Spain

{Illustration: cover & spine}

'Gainst The Might Of Spain

{Illustration: THE ESCAPE. _Frontispiece._] [_Page 154._}

'Gainst The Might Of Spain

A Story Of The Days Of The Great Armada

BY PERCY F. WESTERMAN AUTHOR OF "UNDER KING HENRY'S BANNERS" "THE WINNING OF THE GOLDEN SPURS" ETC. ETC.

_With Illustrations By Savile Lumley_

London The Pilgrim Press 16 Pilgrim Street, E.C.

CONTENTS --.-- CHAP. PAGE I. THE PILOT WHO DID NOT RETURN . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 II. THE _DAMSEL OF LYME_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .11 III. CAPTAIN HANNIBAL CLEAT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 IV. JACK STAYNTON . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33 V. CAPTAIN CLEAT IN HIS TRUE COLOURS . . . . . . . . . 44 VI. A PIRATE IN SPITE OF MYSELF . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 VII. CATCHING A TARTAR . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67 VIII. CAPTURED! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75 IX. DON IAGO D'ALVAREZ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 X. ABOARD THE _SAN JOSEF_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 XI. THE INQUISITION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119 XII. IN THE TORTURE-CHAMBER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 XIII. THE ESCAPE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 XIV. A TIMELY RESCUE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 159 XV. OFF TO THE SPANISH MAIN . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171 XVI. THE MOUNTAIN PASS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 181 XVII. BRINGING BACK THE SILVER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 192 XVIII. AT BAY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 XIX. THE TAKING OF THE GALLEON . . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 XX. BRINGING IN THE PRIZE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 XXI. THE GREAT ARMADA . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 242 XXII. ENGLISH DOGS AND SPANISH BULLS . . . . . . . . . . . 266 XXIII. THE FIRESHIPS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 274 XXIV. THE LAST OF THE _DAMSEL OF LYME_ . . . . . . . . . . 285 XXV. IN THE QUEEN'S PRESENCE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS --.-- THE ESCAPE . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._Coloured Frontispiece_ "THE TWENTY-NINTH DAY OF JUNE!" HE EXCLAIMED IMPATIENTLY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _Facing p._ 48 MY JAILERS HALTED BEFORE A SMALL OAKEN DOOR . . . . . . . 122 FOUR MASKED AND HOODED FAMILIARS ENTERED . . . . . . . . . 128 THUS WE SPENT A HORRIBLE NIGHT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176 "HAVE THE SPANIARDS LANDED?" I ASKED . . . . . . . . . . . 240 WE HAD PLAYED OUR PART . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 288

'Gainst The Might Of Spain --.--

Chapter I.

The Pilot Who DID Not Return.

I WAS born on the 6th day of July in the year of grace 1568, in the parish of Crofton, in the county of Southampton.

My father, Richard Roy, was one of the Queen's pilots, and no man knew the tides, currents, and hidden dangers of the Channel 'twixt Scilly and the Forelands better than he.

Fourteen years before I was born, he being then but twenty-five, my father brought into Southampton the ship that bore the heir to the throne of Spain--the same Philip whom all England abhorred till the time of his death. 'Twas on the occasion when this prince came to wed our Queen Mary. Even then the haughty Spaniard was unpopular, and my father roundly detested the task which had been entrusted to him. Yet, since 'twas his duty, he did it right well, bringing the prince's ship safely into Southampton, despite a thick sea-fog.

At length, wearying of staying in home waters, my father engaged in several ventures on the Spanish Main. Here he met with varying fortunes, having been twice cast ashore on the coast of Yucatan. On the second occasion he formed an acquaintanceship with a Spanish grandee, Don Iago d'Alvarez. Friendship I will not term it, as events proved; yet since necessity knows no law, 'twas in my sire's interest to work with this Spaniard.

Together, with the assistance of the Indians, they found and worked a rich mine in the mountains that, like a backbone, traverse the Spanish colony of Mexico--or New Spain, as they would call it.

With many mules laden with silver the adventurers journeyed towards the coast, and losing heavily both in men, beasts of burden, and precious metal, they succeeded in coming within sight of the shore somewhere in the neighbourhood of the city of Vera Cruz.

That night Don Iago made excuse to go into the city, and in his absence my father learned from one of the Indians that a rupture had occurred 'twixt England and Spain. This might or might not have been true, but the rest of the Indian's tale was of far greater import as far as my sire was concerned. In short, Don Iago had gone to obtain the aid of one, Don José da Silva. My father was to be treacherously slain, and his share of the hard-gotten booty was to be divided 'twixt the two rascally Spaniards.

Black rage entered into my father's heart. Vowing that neither of the villains should set eyes on the treasure, he dismissed the Indians, and having taken possession of the map of the mine, without which it was well-nigh impossible to find the spot again, he drove the baggage mules with their precious burdens over the edge of a deep ravine, through which the Rio del Foy gains the sea. Thus having thwarted his treacherous companion, my sire fled southwards, casting about him to find a means whereby he could leave the inhospitable shore of Mexico.

This he succeeded in doing, and after divers adventures, perils, and hardships, again set foot in his native land in the year 1566.

The same year he married, and settled down once more to his calling as a pilot, though the restless spirit of adventure sorely tempted him again to seek for the vast treasures of the silver mine of San Luis. Yet, held by home ties, he remained at Titchfield Haven, making a modest living by piloting vessels within the limit of a line drawn 'twixt Lepe and Alverstoke Point.

In my younger days I regarded my parent as a giant, though I have since outstripped him in height. He could, I remember, by standing on tiptoe touch the crown of the arch of Crofton Church door with his head, and 'tis seven feet less a bare four inches. Moreover, he was broad in proportion, with massive chest and limbs, and muscles corded like the trunk of an oak. On one occasion I remember seeing some deep, curiously-shaped scars upon his back, whereat he made such ado to conceal them that I forbore to ask him concerning them. That night I asked my mother, but she firmly and gently bade me wait till I was older ere I learnt the cause of those healed wounds.

One night, when I was twelve years of age, it fell, as frequently happens, a flat calm. My father had returned, saying that, as no ship was in sight and none likely to arrive this tide, he would retire to rest.

I well remember that evening. It was hot and oppressive. The sun had sunk behind a high bank of deep copper-coloured clouds, while the lead-tinted sea rolled sullenly without any breeze to cause the commotion. The sea-gulls, with plaintive cries, flew landwards, as if the unnatural calm disturbed them, while away to the south-east I noticed the distant flashes of summer lightning.

It was so hot and uncomfortable that I could not sleep, but lay in my bed listening to the dull roar of the ground-swell upon the sand flats that encumbered the mouth of our haven, for as such we invariably spoke of the entrance to the tidal Titchfield River.

Shortly after midnight--for I remember hearing the great clock of Place House chime the hour of twelve--there came a loud summons at our door, and a voice exclaimed:

"Does Richard Roy, the pilot, dwell here?"

"Ay," assented my father. "What's amiss? Marry! I know most men hereabouts, but I cannot recognise the sound of your voice."

"That can abide, pilot. But the pinnace _Speedie_, of Brixham, would fain enter the haven."

"I'll be with you, gossip; but i' faith you must have caught a favouring breeze, for at sunset there was naught in sight and no wind withal."

A few minutes later my father, having bidden my mother farewell, with the assurance that he would be home ere morning, unbarred the door.

I heard the footsteps of my sire and his companion crunching on the shingle, then the sound of oars being thrown into the boat, and the creaking of the thole-pins as the little craft put off to the pinnace.

Shortly afterwards I must have fallen asleep.

I awoke with a start, to find the red glare of the rising sun shining on my face. The sky was heavy with swiftly-moving masses of ragged clouds, while seawards the white-crested waves were lashing themselves furiously on the flat shore.

It was now low tide. The haven was dry, but no vessel lay on its muddy bed. Looking landwards up the level valley of the Meon River, I could see as far as the towers of Place House and the little hamlet of Titchfield. Lying alongside the quay abreast of my Lord Wriothesley's mansion were two vessels, but since I knew them well by sight, 'twas certain that neither was the Brixham pinnace.

Seaward no ship was to be seen, either at anchor within the shelter of Calshot Castle or under way towards the distant Wight.

The _Speedie_, if such she were, had vanished as mysteriously and as unseen as she had arrived off the haven overnight.

So fierce was the storm that I made much ado to keep the casement from being blown to by the force of the wind, while the loose, dry sand above high-water mark was being blown landwards in great eddying clouds. Ashore the full-leaved trees were bending greatly to the wind, some of them having already been uprooted by the fierce blast; the like I had never before seen.

Going downstairs, I found my mother sitting at the window, pale and weary with watching, for 'twas ever thus whenever my father was at his work in a storm.

"Oh, Ralph, what has befallen your father?" she exclaimed. "He went off to some ship yesternight, and has not returned."

"Naught, I trust," I replied bravely, for I had unbounded confidence in my sire's resolution and seamanship. "Perchance the tide fell overmuch before the _Speedie_ could enter the haven, and he has taken her to Southampton."

"You talk like a full-grown man, Ralph," she exclaimed, comforted, no doubt, by my reply. Then her curiosity got the better of her distress. "How came you to know that the ship was the _Speedie_?" she asked.

"I heard the man call my father soon after midnight."

"Tell me, Ralph," she continued anxiously, "did he talk like--like an Englishman?"

"Ay, though not like the people of these parts. He said he was of Brixham; and where might Brixham be, mother?"

"I thank Heaven he was a Devon man," said my mother, ignoring my question, and then, as if speaking to herself, "Oh, Dick, why did you put off to that ship?"

Slowly the day passed. The gale abated almost as suddenly as it had sprung up, and once more the fishing boats that had lain snugly in the sheltered harbours and creeks of the Isle of Wight began to run for home.

To our anxious inquiries the fishermen could give no news. No strange craft named the _Speedie_ had been met with.

Late that afternoon I trudged into Southampton, but though my father was well known in the port, he had not been seen there, neither had any ship put in that bore the name of the Brixham pinnace.

An anxious night succeeded a trying day, but still no news. Two small traders had been cast ashore, one at Stone Point, the other off Warsash, and in both cases their crews contrived to reach land safely; but neither vessel was the _Speedie_.

The days ran into weeks, till blank despair that had succeeded the period of anxiety gave place to the strange calm of resignation.

At length, at the invitation of some of her relatives, my mother sold up her home and moved into a small house at Portsmouth, having enough to keep us in comparative comfort.

Thus in my fourteenth year I found myself about to be bound 'prentice to learn the art and mystery of a mariner, and it is at this point that my narrative begins.

Chapter II.

The _Damsel Of Lyme_.

ONE afternoon I was sitting on the beach close to the iron chain that crosses the mouth of the Portsmouth Harbour--the same chain that had been wrought at great expense by the order of King Henry, the father of our gracious sovereign Lady Queen Elizabeth, for the purpose of keeping out hostile ships, though many would have it that 'twould not avail 'gainst a man-of-war standing in with wind and tide.

With me was my boon companion, Jack Staynton, a lad two years my senior, and son of the selfsame Roger Staynton who had been disfranchised under strange circumstances during the late reign.

The elder Staynton was a man of uncommon ideas, who firmly believed in taking stern measures to redress his grievances when milder actions failed.

Nearly thirty years before he was master-gunner of the town of Portsmouth, and received an offer to be made a burgess. But being accused of having unlawfully taken possession of an iron gun belonging, 'tis said, to the town and not to Her Majesty, he took umbrage, and promptly told the Mayor that the burgess-ship was not worth a clout to wipe his dirty shoes, and that he would not accept the so-called honour.

Smarting under the insult, the Mayor "presented" Roger Staynton for not giving up the gun, and the master-gunner was ordered to surrender the piece of ordnance by a certain date. Staynton appealed to Her Majesty in vain. Thereupon, with a score of boon comrades he hauled the cannon to the Mayor's house, and calling his worship forth, had him placed astraddle of the piece, chaining his ankles together so that the unfortunate chief magistrate could not release himself. All that night the Mayor remained in possession of the town's gun, and in a far different manner than he bargained for; but ere morning Roger Staynton was on the high seas, bound for the coast of Flanders, where he served bravely with the Dutch 'gainst their Spanish oppressors.

These doings occurred in the reign of Bloody Mary, but on Her Most Gracious Lady Queen Elizabeth's accession Roger hastened to return home, and was reinstated in his office of master-gunner.

Jack Staynton showed fair promise of inheriting his sire's impetuous bravery and hot-headed disposition. Withal he was good-hearted and of a pleasant manner, save when thwarted in what he considered to be his rights. Though two years older than I, he was full three inches shorter in stature, his body being over broad in proportion to his height.

From his cradle his father had taught him to hate the Spaniards, and that doctrine, being akin to mine own, strengthened our mutual friendship.

"By Kit! yore's a strange rig," exclaimed Jack, pointing to a long, rakish-looking pinnace that was standing in towards the harbour. She was about fifty feet in length, with a deep sheer amidships, her poop being well raised, though not so lofty in proportion to many of the Queen's ships. She had both fore and aft masts, raking well aft. Her mainyard had been lowered, for her crew were shortening sail, but from her foreyard a huge square sail was drawing to the following breeze.

"Ay, 'tis not a craft of these parts," I replied. "Yonder sail was not cut in the ports of Hampshire or Sussex. Mark well the tumble home of her sides, and her long, lean bows. She must be a wholesome vessel for hard weather, and swift withal."

"Well spoken, young master!" exclaimed a fisherman who was standing close by. "'Tis the _Damsel of Lyme_, and hath been arrested by the Vice-Admiral Horsey on a charge of piracy on the high seas."

"Is that so?" asked Jack eagerly. "And what will come o' it?"

"They will take her into the Camber Quay. If so be the charge is proved, 'tis the halter for her crew," replied the man. "Perchance you would like to see the pinnace moored; that being so, I'll put you across in my boat."

We eagerly assented, and accompanying the fisherman along a narrow tongue of shingle that separated the harbour from the vast extent of mud that at high tide served as the Camber, we crossed to the quay.

Here many of the townsfolk had already assembled. There was Master John Highfield, the Mayor, with Master Owen Tottye, who had held the office two years before. They were holding close converse with a short, rotund man whose white hair and grey pointed beard contrasted strangely with his deep red complexion.

"'Tis Sir Henry Radclyffe, the Governor of the town," whispered Jack, as we clambered up the worn stone steps of the quay. "A right worthy gentleman, and a brave soldier. My father has served under him in times past, and has nothing but praise for him."

"Yet he seems to have continual differences with the Mayor," I replied.

"'Tis but natural, when a town has two masters," remarked Jack sagely. "Dost not remember last Monday before Michaelmas, when the same Mayor was elected, how that my father had orders from Sir Henry concerning the discharge of ordnance from the platform for the Mayor's salute, and that this Master Highfield had words with the Governor regarding the number of guns that were to be fired? 'Tis even the same, and perchance 'twill always be."

Jack was right, for at that moment a dispute was in progress as to who should have charge of the prisoners--five evil-looking cut-purses who had been caught in the very act of robbing a Shoreham trader off the Isle of Wight. The Mayor claimed the culprits under the jurisdiction of the town, while Sir Henry Radclyffe insisted that they should be the prisoners of the State.

"Well met, Master Staynton!" exclaimed the Governor, as Jack's father, the master-gunner, came up and saluted his superior. "I would have your advice on this matter."

Thereupon Sir Henry proceeded to give his version of the affair, while the Mayor and his councillors, knowing the master-gunner of old, drew long faces at the obvious decision of the old war-dog.

"Of a truth, Sir Henry, you could not do better than follow the example of your predecessor, the worthy Sir Adrian Poynings," replied the master-gunner. "With him right was might and might was right; so, saving your presence, I will send for the guard."

"Excellent!" exclaimed the Governor. "You hear, Master Mayor? I will have and hold these caitiffs. You can hold the pinnace and dispose of her as you think fit. 'Tis but dividing the spoil."

Under the circumstances the Mayor could but submit. The prisoners were removed to the guardroom, while the Town Clerk and his assistants proceeded to take an inventory of the confiscated pinnace.

No one saying us nay, we mingled with the burgesses and townsfolk who were wandering all over the little craft, inspecting with evident curiosity the vessel that had earned such an infamous notoriety in the Channel.

On board I was surprised at her roomy appearance. Save for the break of the poop, I found she was flush fore and aft, a low bulwark for'ard giving slight protection to a couple of small iron sakers, while on her poop an iron culverin was mounted on a swivel, so as to command a wide range on both sides of the ship.

Abaft the foremast was a large hatchway giving access to the hold, while betwixt the mainmast and the poop a smaller opening led to the main cabin, the space under the poop-deck being entirely open save for a low bulkhead rising to a height barely two feet from the deck.

This, then, was the _Damsel of Lyme_, a vessel that had kept the sea in all weathers for more than two years, during which period it was known that she had taken much booty both from the Spaniards and our own countrymen, disposing of it at a handsome profit in the ports of Brittany.

All at once my attention was directed towards a tall, bearded man clad in a jerkin and trunks of blue serge, while around his neck hung a silver whistle on a chain of the same metal. Round his waist was a broad belt of undressed leather, in which was thrust a short sheath-knife, counterbalanced by a bulky wallet.

His head was closely cropped, revealing a high forehead. His eyebrows, instead of being arched, seemed to form one continuous straight line, while his deep-set eyes had a grave expression. His nose was straight and inclined to broadness. Beyond that the rest of his face was hidden by his reddish-hued beard.

That he was a stranger to the town I had no doubt, for I knew nearly every one by sight. None of the other persons on board spoke to him, though many were the inquisitive glances that were thrown towards the tall seaman--since seaman he must surely be.

Presently he straightened himself--for being 'tween decks he had been unable to stand upright--till his head and shoulders appeared above the coamings of the hatch.

"Sink me," I heard him mutter, "this craft ought to suit me right well." Then, seeing us, he said:

"Tell me, shipmates, is there a decent, well-conducted inn where I may obtain good accommodation?"

"There is the Star hard by the Town House, in the High Street," I replied, flattered to think that the stranger should condescend to address us as shipmates.

"A fig for the Star," he bellowed, heedless or ignorant of the fact that Giles Bickley, the host, was within earshot. "The sack was sour and the mulled ale as flat as a duck pond. I tarried there overnight, and this morning my head was as thick as this carline."

"Then there are the Dragon, the Lyon, the White Hart, and the Rose, all standing close together just off St. Nicholas Street," quoth Jack. "'Twould be hard if a veteran salt like you, good sir, did not find one of these to his liking."

"Cleverly said, my young haul-the-bowline; but, tell me, is the law long-winded in this town? When is the matter concerning the disposal of the _Damsel of the Lyme_ likely to be settled?"

I shook my head. Such things were beyond me.

"'Twould not be amiss to ask my friend's father," I remarked. "Yonder he stands. He is called Roger Staynton, and he is master-gunner of this town."

"What! Do I hear aright? Old Roger Staynton? Grammercy!"

And springing upon the deck without deigning to make use of the ladder, the stranger leapt upon the quay and made his way towards Jack's father.

Curious to know more of this remarkable personage, we followed, and were surprised to see the master-gunner wring the stranger's hand with unwonted vehemence.

"Holá, comrade!" he exclaimed. "Only to think that I should see Hannibal Cleat again! Man, methought you had gone down in the Venture, when I saw her with mine own eyes founder off the Texel."

"'Tis a long story, Roger, and 'twill keep. But----"

"Nay, stand not talking here. Do me the honour of staying at my abode, Captain. What I have is at your service. Jack," he added, "hasten and inform your mother that I am bringing an old friend, Captain Hannibal Cleat (of whom she has ofttimes heard me speak), to see her. Ralph, you can go with him, and await our coming. No doubt the Captain will make you yearn for a life on the salt seas."

Chapter III.

Captain Hannibal Cleat.

IT was quite a sumptuous repast that Mistress Staynton had provided, and Captain Cleat did full justice to it. During the meal he spoke little, saying that 'twas his custom to do one thing at a time, and that right well.

But after dinner was over and the last bumper of sack drained, Master Roger Staynton led the way to the garden. It was a delightful spot, cool even in summer. Seven or eight large oak trees spread their branches over the springy turf of the lawn, that on three sides was enclosed by a lofty stone wall partially garbed in ivy.

Betwixt the trees could be seen the tower of the Church of St. Thomas, but beyond that there was nothing to show that the master-gunner's garden was in the midst of a town. Even the rumble of the carts over the rough streets and the noise and bustle of the townsfolk seemed unable to penetrate the seclusion of this walled-in place; and here in his hours of leisure Master Staynton forgot even his oft-recurring bickerings with the Mayor and his associates.

Here, sprawling at his ease on an oaken bench, Captain Hannibal Cleat made up for his reticence at table, and tale after tale he told of the Spanish Main, of the Caribs, of tempest and calm, of battles against Dons, Turks, and infidels, till I almost forgot I was in the master-gunner's garden.

"The sea! There is naught like it for a sturdy English lad!" he exclaimed. "It passes my understanding why the youth of this country hang back, when so much profit and adventure await them in foreign parts. What say you, young master? Your name has again slipped my memory."

"Ralph Roy," I replied. "And soon I am to be bound 'prentice to learn the art and mystery of a mariner."

"So? To whom?"

"Perchance to Master William Terge, who commands the good ship _Loyalty_, or else to Master Dionysius Savage, of the Ark. But 'tis the amount of the premium that is to be considered, since my mother can ill afford to give much."

"Hast no father?" asked the Captain.

"My father was a Queen's pilot. Richard Roy his name. He was lost off this coast in a great storm. His name, perchance, is known to you, good sir?"

"Roy?" exclaimed the Captain reflectively. "I verily believe I can call him to mind. Have we not met him in the course of our wanderings abroad, Roger?"

"Nay, I cannot recall it, comrade," replied the master-gunner. "I have only made Mistress Roy's acquaintance since she came to dwell in Portsmouth."

"Then let it pass. But should I be able to buy the _Damsel of Lyme_ in open market, wouldst be willing to be bound 'prentice to me?"

"'Tis a small craft to adventure yourself in, Hannibal!" exclaimed Roger Staynton; "and a boy would find it go hard with him in a gale of wind."

"Tut, tut! I mean to have two 'prentices. They would be as happy as sandboys. As for the _Damsel of Lyme_, she is small, yet well found. Which is to be preferred, Roger--a sweet, wholesome craft of little tonnage, with sound gear and well manned, or a lubberly ship with rotten tackle, such as is oft to be seen at sea in all weathers?"

"You already speak as if the pinnace were yours, comrade," remarked the master-gunner with a grim smile.

"Roger, I thought you knew me of old. Hast ever seen me to be bent from my purpose?"

"Ay, once," replied the elder Staynton, laughing. "Dost remember that little affair at Aix in '63?"

"Let that pass," interrupted Captain Cleat, in obvious confusion; then, recovering his composure, he continued: "Well, Master Roy, we'll put off the answer to my question for a while, but should you care to broach the subject to your mother, with the deepest respects of Captain Hannibal Cleat, 'twould not come amiss. Tell her that the premium is of little moment, provided that the 'prentice is able and willing. 'Obey orders unquestioningly': that's my advice to all lads, whether they be budding seamen or mere land-lubbers."

However, I did not mention the matter to my mother that night, preferring to see whether Captain Cleat did succeed in purchasing the pinnace. I had also made up my mind to ask Jack Staynton some questions concerning his father's old comrade; so after breakfast on the following day I made my way to the house in Hog market Street.

Jack was already out, having gone down to the quay with his fishing-line. Thither I hurried, only to find him standing outside the gate, where a broad-sheet had been fixed to a notice board on the wall.

"What do you make of it, Roy?" he asked, being an indifferent scholar. At that time I was only a little better, but by dint of much puzzling and cudgelling of my brains I deciphered the crabbed writing.

It was as follows:--

1) "An Invitory taken y{e} XXI day of June in y{e} XXV yeare of our soveraigne ladye Elizabeth by the grace of God of Englande, ffrance and Ireland, Quene defender of the fayth, etc., of all such goods as are in y{e} Damsell of Lyme of y{e} burden of XXI tunns.

Imprimus a pinnace w{th} y{e} mayne and fore masts and yards to y{e} same.

Item on grapnell w{th} an olde Cable con XIV vadom.

Item on iron pott w{th} a well kettell.

Item ij longe oars ij bowes, on hand-sawe and ij hatchetts. Item on ax, on compas, on olde sworde, ij sakers and on culverin.

Item a water barrell and a stoupe.

Item a mayne sayle w{th} a topp sayle.

Item a tilt sayle of VIIj brethes of clothe to the houps.

Item a ship cheste and in the same two remnants of whyte wulley clothe of IIj elles on littell vynager bottell a q{rt} can a virkyn of salt.

Item three hogshedds of powder whereof one is spoylt XXIV shott of yron XXX shott of stone.

By Mr. John Highfield esquire maior it is appointed that y{e} Damsell of Lyme be sold in open courte on y{e} twenty-nynth daie of June, 1582 at y{e} houre of XI in y{e} forenoone."

1) Taken from a contemporary record.

"So the pinnace is to be sold in eight days' time," remarked Jack. "Captain Cleat will have to wait awhile. But the charge against the crew was soon proved."

"Ay, up to the hilt. They are to be chained to posts on the foreshore, so that the rising tide will drown them," I replied. "Master Jennings told me of the sentence this morning. But what think ye of your father's guest?" I asked bluntly.

"A hearty sea-dog, nothing more or less," replied Jack. "True, he's given vent to many strange oaths and has played havoc with the mulled ale and sack, but he is ever most devout in all religious exercises, which pleases my mother mightily."

"Is he," I continued anxiously, "a man who would prove a just and honest master? I am in no mind to be bullied and browbeaten by any man."

"I trow you will have to put up with plenty of hard words and harder knocks ere you come to man's estate," replied Jack sagely. "But I would I were with you in this matter, Ralph. Did not Captain Cleat say he would want two 'prentices?"

"Would your father say yea?" I asked eagerly.

"I can but ask him. But here comes the Captain."

"Good morrow to ye, lads," was Captain Hannibal's gruff yet hearty greeting. "I heard it said that the announcement of the sale is out."

"Ay," announced Jack, after he had returned his salutation. "'Tis on the other side of the quay gate."

"By my beard, I can make nought on't," grumbled the Captain, after he had stood in front of the notice, had inclined his head to the left and to the right, and had walked backwards for several paces in his efforts to read the crabbed writing. "Canst read, shipmate?" he bellowed in my ear.

"I'll try, sir," I replied; and, having already deciphered the Town Clerk's manuscript, I proceeded quickly with my task, the Captain gripping my shoulder heavily in his eagerness.

"The twenty-ninth day of June!" he exclaimed impatiently. "What long-winded lubbers they are! Master Jack, your good father will tire of his old comrade ere then."

"Nay, I can answer for that, Captain Cleat," replied my companion. "But if Ralph goes as your 'prentice, could I not go also? I remember you said you wanted two."

"Nay, lad, 'tis not to be thought of. Many a long-standing friendship has been wrecked upon the rocks of enmity through the like. I am too much beholden to your sire to take upon myself the care of his son. 'Twould also capsize the proper feeling 'twixt master and 'prentice were I to have you aboard. Therefore think no more of it, my lad."

Then, observing our crestfallen looks, he clapped each of us on the back. "Cheer-ho! 'tis for the best. Perchance you'll both be shipmates on the same craft ere another seven years are spent. Did you say aught to your mother, Ralph?"

"Nay," I replied. "I waited----"

"Waited for what?" demanded Captain Cleat peremptorily. "Did I not tell you to ask?"

"I thought 'twas a request," I faltered.

"Request? Sink me! I never request--I order. Mark it well."

And, turning on his heel, Captain Hannibal Cleat lurched away in true nautical style, leaving me to wonder at the varying moods of the man who might by mine own choice become my master.

Chapter IV.

Jack Staynton.

ACTING on Captain Cleat's so-called order, I told my mother of his proposal to take me as 'prentice. Although glad of the offer, since the question of a premium was a weighty one, she did not at once give her consent, but made inquiries of Master Roger Staynton concerning his old comrade.

"'I faith, Mistress Roy," he replied, "what would ye have me say? Captain Cleat has been my boon companion divers times past, and though he is rough in manner and speech, I wot that he is good-hearted and just withal. Certainly he is a man of many parts and many peculiarities, but I would not tarry to send mine own son to sea with him. Yet--and I look upon it as one of the Captain's whims--he straightway refused him."

With this qualified recommendation my mother sought fit to accede to Captain Hannibal Cleat's demand, and it was decided that, should the Captain put to sea in the _Damsel of Lyme_, I was to be bound apprentice to him for six years, to learn the art and mystery of a seaman in consideration of the sum of five pounds.

At length the day appointed for the sale came round, and early in the morning Jack and I went aboard the _Damsel of Lyme_, where, in company with about a score of other lads, we swarmed up the rigging in spite of the efforts of the tipstaffs to dislodge us.

Beneath we could see Captain Cleat as he paced the deck with a self-confident manner, as if he were already in command; yet we noticed that he shrewdly took stock of each newcomer, viewing in him a possible rival for the possession of the _Damsel of Lyme_.

Just before the hour of eleven the Mayor, his assistants, and a score of burgesses arrived on the scene, attended by the sergeant-at-mace, the town clerk, two scriveners, the crier, and a guard of javelin men.

At the quay-side they waited, the Mayor looking with ill-concealed annoyance in the direction of the Governor's house, for ere the sale could commence, being partly a State affair, 'twas necessary that the Governor or his representative should attend in person.

It was quite ten minutes past the hour when the roll of drums announced the arrival of Sir Henry Radclyffe. Attended by a half-company of archers and pikemen, with several captains, the master-gunner and master-bowyer in his train, the Governor strode with measured step to the quay-side, where he gravely received and returned the salute of the representatives of the borough.

Then at a sign from the Mayor a tall, gaunt man, dressed in sober russet, mounted upon a rostrum, and proceeded to give a voluminous description of the confiscated pinnace.

"Cut it short! Cut it short!" I heard Captain Cleat mutter impatiently. Several of those whose business it was to bid for the _Damsel of Lyme_ began to cough, with the same idea of curtailing the speaker's verbosity, but all to no purpose. The man was not to be gainsaid, and though he undoubtedly heard the muttered interruptions, he sonorously continued his discourse.

At length the bidding began, Captain Cleat taking no active part during the first five offers. Then the bids seemed to hang fire, in spite of the official's urgent appeals to the sound judgment of his audience.

Planting his legs firmly apart, as was his wont, Captain Hannibal Cleat tapped his well-filled wallet, then folded his massive arms across his chest.

"Enough of this child's play, my masters!" he exclaimed. "I mean to bid and bid hard, so if there be a man worthy to be called a man let him bid against me. Only mark well lest I let him have the pinnace at a long price," and straightway the Captain bid a pound more than the last offer.

The challenge was taken up by a ship-master of Poole, but after a while, fearing that the Captain would avail himself of his threat, and leave the pinnace on his hands at a high price, the Dorset man fell out, leaving Captain Cleat to buy the _Damsel of Lyme_ for the sum of thirty-four pounds.

For the next three days the Captain worked from morn till night on his new purchase. He had shipped two hands--rough-looking men they seemed to me--and the task of refitting the pinnace proceeded amain.

Yet he found time to accompany my mother and me to the house of Master Owen Tottye, a former mayor and magistrate of the town. By him I was formally bound 'prentice to Captain Cleat, and a copy of the indenture handed to my mother.

This done, Master Tottye gave me a short homily on the necessity for obedience, and exhorted me to strive to make my way in the world.

The magistrate was in truth well qualified to give advice, for he had risen himself. When first he came to Portsmouth he set up as a glover, but "not being free," had been presented and fined eleven times. Yet in spite of persecution--for 'twas nought else--Master Owen Tottye succeeded in being elected a burgess. Nor was he content to remain such, for ere long he became mayor's assistant and finally mayor. 'Tis said that he hoped again to receive the honour of being elected mayor at the hands of his fellow-townsmen.

Nor did Master Tottye's kindness end with words of cheer, for ere we left his house he gave me an order on his neighbour Jennyns for two ells of russet cloth and three ells of blue serge, so that I might be suitably apparelled in my new condition in life.

I now entered upon my duties as Captain Cleat's 'prentice, and was soon well acquainted with the tar-brush, the caulking-iron, the serving mallet, and divers other implements used by seamen when refitting their craft. But though the Captain worked me hard, I had no cause to complain, since he himself worked as hard as any of us.

At length the day appointed for the departure of the _Damsel of Lyme_ came round. She was bound for the Coast of Guinea, there to trade with the negroes or blackamoors, and on this account the pinnace was well armed. Certain busybodies went so far as to say that Captain Cleat's close friendship with the master-gunner stood him in good stead, but of the truth of the report I knew nothing. But many expressed their opinion openly and freely that the _Damsel of Lyme_ was undermanned for such an enterprise. This coming to the ears of Captain Cleat caused him to swear so roundly that even I, knowing his failings in that direction, was mightily astonished.

The _Damsel of Lyme_ was to sail at tide-time, which happened to be at three in the afternoon, so that full advantage of the down Channel stream could be taken.

At noon, the Captain having gone ashore for dinner, and the two hands being below, I saw Jack Staynton standing on the edge of the quay.

"Hist!" he exclaimed in a low voice, for he was aware that the hatch of the forepeak was open, and that the two seamen were below, "I want to speak with you, Ralph."

Without waiting I crossed the gangplank, and stood beside him. I must have looked a fine scarecrow, being unkempt, in my rough clothing and smothered with iron rust and tar, while he was neatly attired in white doublet, plum-coloured breeches, and dark blue hose, with pinch-beck shoes mounted with polished steel buckles.

"Has Captain Cleat taken another 'prentice yet?" he asked.

"Nay, nor is he likely to," I replied.

"Then, Ralph, I'm coming with you----"

"Gracious----"

"Nay, give not vent to wonderment, but rather give me your help. The coast is clear let me hide in the hold, and then, Ralph, we'll still be comrades together."

Overjoyed at his proposal, and counting not the cost of our ill-advised action, I led Jack down the after-companion. But to my surprise the hold was battened down, and secured by an iron padlock. Why that should be so was beyond my understanding, since I knew that 'twas only partly filled with sea-stores, it being the Captain's intention to lower three hogshead of flour into it ere we set sail.

"I have it," I whispered. "I'll stow you in the Captain's cabin. When he finds you 'twill matter little once we are at sea, since he is so beholden to your father."

To this Jack agreed, and treading softly aft we gained the cabin without interruption.

Here we cast about to find a safe hiding-place, but without success, till I espied a ring-bolt set in the floor betwixt the table and the stern window. By our united efforts we succeeded in raising a trap-door, that at first sight looked like part of the deck, disclosing a dark opening.

"'Twill be the very thing," whispered Jack.

"But be careful, it may be deep down," I added, as my companion prepared to lower himself into the hole. "Stay while I procure a lantern."

"There is no need," he replied. "My feet already touch the bottom. 'Tis sand or something of that sort. Now, Ralph, put the cover on."

"But you will die for want of air," I objected.

"Needs be as needs must," he replied nonchalantly. "Should it be necessary I'll heave my back against the cover and raise it."

I had hardly hidden my daring friend and returned to my task--which was that of tarring the dead-eyes--when I saw Captain Cleat returning across the quay.

He had several heavy packages under his arm, and declining my offer to help him, bore them into his cabin. There he remained for some considerable time, while I waited in fear and trembling lest the Captain should place his chair on top of Jack's place of concealment, and thus unwittingly cause him to die of suffocation, or at least compel him to make himself known, and so frustrate our plot.

Presently Captain Cleat reappeared, glanced at the wind-vane, and gave orders for sail to be set. 'Twas a full hour before high water, but the breeze was favourable. Unfortunately for me this hurried departure prevented me from seeing my mother, who was to have come down to the quay to bid me God-speed. There was one consolation: I had already bidden her farewell in the privacy of our own home.

Nimbly the two seamen sprung aloft and set the foresail. Captain Cleat at the tiller shouted to me to haul first on one sheet then on another, till in the confusion I was unaware that our voyage had really commenced.

But 'twas so, and soon the _Damsel of Lyme_ was curtsying to the short steep waves, with my fellow-voyager, Jack Staynton, still undiscovered in his cramped and dismal retreat.

Chapter V.

Captain Cleat In His True Colours.

UNFORTUNATELY, the wind that had served us so well in clearing the harbour soon fell light, and barely drifting with the tide, the _Damsel of Lyme_ stood slowly down the Solent.

I now had time to ponder over recent events, for Captain Cleat, roundly cursing the faint breeze, had retired to his cabin, leaving one of the seamen, a red-faced, curly-headed lout with a vile temper--as I soon found out--at the tiller. This seaman rejoiced in the name of James, but whether 'twas his Christian name or otherwise I could never find out. When he was not spluttering with rage he was peevish, often complaining like a spoilt child; and looking back, I cannot call to mind which mood was to be preferred. From my first day afloat I got to loathe my shipmate, while he took every opportunity to make my lot uncomfortable.

The other seaman, known as "Old Garge," as a tall, sparsely-built man of about forty. He, too, roundly detested his shipmate, but since James was in petty authority, being regarded as first mate of the pinnace, he thought fit to keep in with him. Nevertheless, Garge was of a kindly nature, despite his rough exterior, and, when out of James' sight and hearing, did not hesitate to show me a deal of consideration.

The pinnace still carried way, being borne rapidly westward by the strong tide. We were abreast of Lymington River, when I heard Captain Cleat bellow out for James to come aft. It was such a roar that the Captain gave--though he was always shouting when on shipboard--that even the surly seaman showed signs of surprise and ran aft in no leisurely manner.

Presently up the after-hatchway appeared the head and shoulders of Captain Hannibal Cleat. Then he paused to give vent to a string of curses, and with a heave, assisted by his man, he brought into view my friend Jack Staynton.

Even I could scarcely recognise him. His face and hands, being moist with sweat, were smothered with a charcoal-like substance, while his smart clothes were soiled and discoloured by the same gritty stuff.

To the accompaniment of a liberal dose of handcuffs and kicks, my unfortunate companion was dropped upon the deck like a sack, where he lay entreating the Captain to forbear and hear him, while I stood by helplessly looking on at the inhuman treatment bestowed by a man who had been Master Staynton's guest for weeks past.

At last the lad contrived to make Captain Cleat understand that he was Jack Staynton. Thereupon he withheld his hand.

"Then what are you doing aboard the _Damsel of Lyme_?" he demanded with an oath. "Sink me, I took you for a stowaway! How did you get here?"

"I hid," replied Jack. "You said you wanted another 'prentice----"

"In the face of what I told you, you tried to fool me, eh?" interrupted Captain Cleat. "Now, you couldn't have got down that hatch by yourself. Who helped you? that leather-livered cub, Roy, I'll swear."

Jack did not reply; thereupon the Captain called me.

"Here, you lying son of a sea-cook; what made you try and play the fool like this?" Then in a softer tone he added: "Jack, dost know what's on your clothes? 'Tis gunpowder, so stand aside and shake the grains clear to lee'ard."

I trembled in spite of myself, for I remembered having offered to light Jack's hiding-place with a candle lamp.

"I'm not to be thwarted," continued my master. "To that end I'll put you aboard the first vessel we meet. Unless mine eyes deceive me, there's a shallop standing in past Hurst Castle. Think of your parents' anxiety, Jack."

Somehow or other I did not think that these last words rang true, and there was a strange expression in the Captain's eye that boded no good for me when once my comrade was clear of the ship.

"Nay, sir," quoth Jack. "Concerning my parents, they have already decided to send me to sea; moreover, I have told Master Ridge to let them know ere nightfall. That being so, why cannot I remain? You need not fear to treat me as the others, and, grammercy, I've had a full share already, methinks."

"Nay," replied Captain Cleat shortly. "'Tis useless to think of it."

With that he walked over to where James had resumed his place at the tiller, and bade him steer towards the little craft we had sighted. She was a fishing-boat, and the wind being light and contrary, they had taken to their oars, and were attempting to take advantage of the counter eddy that swirls past the walls of Hurst Castle.

"'Tis not to be, Ralph," said Jack, "so the best of friends must part. But the Captain seems of a strange nature--far different from when he was at our home. Methinks you will find him a hard master."

{Illustration: "THE TWENTY-NINTH DAY OF JUNE!" HE EXCLAIMED IMPATIENTLY. [_p. 30._}

"He dealt brutally with you," I replied.

"Ay, I wot I am one mass of bruises. But, there, 'twas done in a temper, and he knew not who I was. Now, Ralph, I want you----"

My companion's request was interrupted by the Captain shouting for him to come aft, for the shallop, in reply to a hail, had rounded-to and lay alongside our quarter.

"In you jump, young master," ordered the Captain. "These men will land you at Portsmouth as soon as can be done; 'twill cost thy father a mark; but do you present him with my compliments and say 'tis a sum well spent."

With that, and before Jack could bid me farewell, Captain Cleat lifted him clear of the low bulwarks and dropped him into the arms of one of the fishermen.

For a long time I watched the distance slowly lengthen between the two vessels, till a beam wind springing up that was favourable to both, the shallop was lost to view in the haze.

Suddenly I was interrupted by the Captain's strident voice:

"Boy, come aft--I want you."

I hastened to obey, and standing bareheaded before him, was cowed by the malevolent expression upon his bearded face.

"Now, you insubordinate young whelp, I would have words with you. First tell me, why did you break into my cabin, being contrary to my orders?"

"I knew of no such order, sir, neither did I break into the place."

"You lying, prevaricating young sea-lawyer!" he stormed. "I'll teach you to obey. Take off your doublet."

Slowly I did as he ordered. My senses were numbed, yet I knew that I was to be soundly whipped. I remember looking longingly at the shore, and had it been nearer I would have sprung overboard and made an effort to reach it. Captain Cleat must have read my mind, for he shouted, "Wouldst add the crime of breaking ship to your other villainies? Oh that a youth so wholly wicked should have been palmed off on me!" and he seized me by the arm.

I remembered his grip when outside the quay gate. 'Twas vice-like then, but now 'twas like to snap my arm. Then tearing my doublet from my back, he called to James to trice me to the mast.

Taking his place at the tiller, the Captain watched the proceedings with a fiendish leer, while his assistant was not one whit less eager to carry out his orders.

'Twas over at last, and with my back torn and bruised with the savage rope's ending, I was cast loose and told to make myself scarce. Blindly I groped my way to the forepeak, where Old Garge, who had heard the noise on deck, but had not thought it prudent to show himself, washed my wounds with fresh water, and told me to lie down in my bunk.

Early next morning I was awakened by the tramp of feet on deck. "Up with you," said Garge; "they're changing watch, and 'tis your trick."

Painfully I gained the open air. Away on our starboard hand was a long line of lofty rugged granite cliffs fringed with a line of white foam, while seaward the skyline was unbroken.

But 'twas not the land that attracted my attention; on deck were six ferocious-looking rascals besides Captain Cleat and his minion James. I vaguely remembered having seen the men before, till, like a flash, the truth came to me. They were the former crew of the _Damsel of Lyme_, who, being convicted of piracy, were to have been drowned at the foreshore this very day!

Observing my unrestrained look of surprise, Captain Cleat called me over to where he stood.

"Well, sirrah! cannot I ship a number of new hands without causing you to gape like the mouth of the bottomless pit? Know you that these new shipmates of ours were transferred from the barque _Nonsuch_ during the night, they having had good and just cause to take up their discharges from that ship?"

"But they are the same men as I saw marched off under guard from this----"

I stopped suddenly, for the Captain's look of surprise at my announcement gave place to a grim smile.

"Sink me, young Roy!" he exclaimed, "you are far smarter than I thought. Ay, you are right, and being a sensible lad, you will keep your own counsel--and mine--in this matter. There's a quick fortune to be made upon the sea, my hearty, and we are going to do it. A fair share for each of the crew, but 'twill mean hard work and no shrinking at trifles. When Captain Hannibal Cleat means to do a thing he is not to be turned from his purpose. Thus, for example, 'twas I who secured these men's release and brought them safely aboard, here to follow once again their calling. But, mark you, one unguarded word, and you are food for the sharks. E'en if you give us the slip you are doomed, for be it a score or more years hence the end will be sure and certain. More, you are even now one of the crew of a pirate ship, and if captured will assuredly be hanged in chains, for who would take your word, being caught red-handed? Now for'ard you go, and learn your trade at the hands of the crew."

Quickly I went, for I had good cause to remember the rope's end. I was well-nigh stunned by the startling news, yet the fact was plain enough. Captain Hannibal Cleat had shown himself in his true colours.

Chapter VI.

A Pirate In Spite Of Myself.

'TWOULD have needed a strong-minded man with plenty of supporters to have defied Captain Cleat. Much as I longed to be able to refuse flatly to serve him, I felt that such a course was inadvisable--nay, 'twould be sheer madness. Moreover, I had such faith in my master's word that I was convinced that he would have his revenge should I contrive to break out of the pinnace.

Whatever happened I must submit--reluctantly all the same--and trust to Providence to deliver me from the meshes of the net that had been cast about me.

The nine desperate ruffians on board the pinnace lost no time in preparing to attack the first helpless ship that stood across their path, and hours were spent in practising the management of the little craft in action.

Two of the crew manned each of the sakers, and three worked the long culverin. Captain Cleat had charge of the helm, James was stationed for'ard, while my duty was to bring powder from the magazine.

To my surprise this magazine was not the place in the Captain's cabin where Jack had hidden himself, but in the midship hold, where the powder was stored in huge casks, one barrel only to be opened at a time as required. This being so, I thought, to what purpose was that quantity of loose powder kept under the floor of the after-cabin?

After practice with the cannon, the men were exercised with their arquebuses and long-bows, followed by drill with the cutlass, pike, and boarding-axe; and the whole of the forenoon passed so rapidly that I had little time to ponder over my distasteful position.

Meanwhile the breeze had held true, and the _Damsel of Lyme_ was well on her way down Channel. Late in the afternoon the cry of "Sail-ho!" brought the watch below tumbling up on deck.

The pinnace's course was altered to intercept the on-coming ship, while the Red Cross was hoisted to her peak.

"What d'ye make of her?" asked Captain Cleat of his minion James, as the pair of rascals stood upon the poop.

"Not too big for us to tackle," replied the mate. "A Hollander by the cut of her bows."

"We could do with a leavening of Dutchmen," continued the Captain reflectively. "Give 'em plenty of spirits and they'll fight for any one save a Don. Bid our men lie hidden, and lay us alongside."

Nearer and nearer came the strange craft, the water hissing sullenly from her bluff cutwater. Then just as James was about to lay the pinnace across her path, the lofty sides were lined by full twoscore men, whose breastplates and steel morions showed above the bulwarks, while from her hitherto unseen ports a tier of brass muzzles were thrust aggressively forward.

"Where are you coming to, you lubberly rascals?" roared a hoarse voice. "Heave-to and give a fair account of yourselves."

My heart bounded for joy, for caught redhanded, ere the rascally crew had time or opportunity to communicate with their friends ashore, it was more than possible that I might escape their clutches and their threatened revenge.

Motioning his armed crew to remain hidden, Captain Cleat came to the gangway.

"_Golden Cross_ ahoy!" he shouted. "I bear letters for the worthy Captain Amyas Thorrogood."

"This is not the _Golden Cross_," replied the officer on the Queen's ship for such she was; "who and what are you?"

"The _Mary_ of and from Weymouth," replied Captain Cleat. "Chartered by Sir John Granville to bear letters to Captain Thorrogood."

"Then make sure 'tis the _Golden Cross_ ere you stand across the bows of another Queen's ship. Get you on your way."

Laboriously the yards of the pinnace were swung round, and she stood off on her former course, the overjoyed rascals still lying hid till the cause of their alarm was well-nigh hull down.

"'Twas a near thing, Cap'n!" exclaimed James, with a mirthless laugh. "But for your ready wit----"

"Avast flattery," replied Captain Cleat shortly. "It served its purpose."

All that night and the following day passed without incident, but just as it was getting dusk, the granite cliffs of Land's End showing a league or so on our starboard quarter, another sail was reported.

This time 'twas a small sloop manned by four men and a boy. Unsuspectingly they allowed us to approach to within half a cable's length, but on Captain Cleat hailing to them to heave-to they took alarm, put their helm hard down, and attempted flight.

We immediately stood in pursuit, the wind being well on our beam, and now the _Damsel of Lyme_ showed her speed. Yet the chase was no bad sailer, and all but held her own.

James was for letting her have a dose from the culverin, but to this Captain Cleat objected, saying that the noise of the firing would bring some of the large armed fishing luggers out of Penzance to see what was amiss.

"Then we stand to lose her in the darkness," objected the mate.

"Peace, fool," replied the Captain, giving a swift glance shorewards. "Keep her as she is till I give the word, then see to it that you put the tiller hard over."

Onward tore the sloop in search of shelter or succour, while at her heels raced the _Damsel of Lyme_, with her ferocious crew ready to cast grapnels and board the moment 'twas possible to come within reach.

"Down helm!" roared Captain Cleat, having caught sight of a peculiar swirl in the water ahead of the two vessels.

Round swung the _Damsel of Lyme_, but ere the pursued could realise the meaning of this sudden change of course the sloop struck with terrific force upon a submerged rock. For a brief instant she pounded heavily, her mast going by the board with a crash, then gradually sank till she settled upon the reef.

Hastily the pinnace was hove-to, her longboat swung out by means of tackles from her yard-arms, and into it swarmed James and four of the men, all armed to the teeth.

Being but a short distance on, I could follow their movements with ease. Ignoring the entreaties of the master and crew of the sloop, the villains plundered all that was of value in the cabin. 'Twas but little, and this served to exasperate the pirates.

"Shall we finish the business?" shouted the mate, passing his forefinger lightly across his throat.

"Stave in their boat--'twill suffice," replied the Captain; and in an undertone he added, "'Tis not the first time that the Runnelstone has served me well--I pray 'twill never be otherwise."

Promptly the pirates carried out the Captain's orders. The only boat carried by the sloop--and a frail cockle-shell at that--was shattered across keel and garboards by a few heavy blows with an axe.

Already the waves were beginning to break asunder the planks on the weather side of the doomed sloop, and her utter destruction would be the matter of about half an hour. Mutely the crew watched with despairing eyes the double work of the sea and of the scum who infested it. They knew the significance of the mate's question, and, realising that 'twould be useless to beg for mercy, could only wait, trusting in some chance of fate whereby they might escape.

Their diabolical act having been accomplished, the pirates prepared to re-embark in the longboat that was moored bow and stern on the lee-side of the shattered sloop. As they did so Old Garge suddenly seized the boy, and, in spite of his cries of terror, bore him to the side and dropped him upon the boat's bottom boards.

I could see James grumblingly protest at this act of mercy, but the old seaman for once stuck to his point, and soon the longboat was alongside the pinnace as she tossed and pitched in the short steep seas. By dint of great exertion and no little risk the boat was hoisted in, and the work of retrimming the sail was proceeded with.

Ere the _Damsel of Lyme_ had covered half a league no traces of the wrecked sloop remained, the seas sweeping over the dreaded rock. One act of wanton cruelty had been committed, and the pirates were no better off, save to the extent of a few barrels of stale provisions, some trivial objects from the cabin, and a terror-stricken boy.

"The snivelling youngster may be the cause of our undoing," grumbled James. "'Twould be well to toss him overboard."

"He'll come in handy to help serve the guns, sir," remarked Garge. "Besides, he'll soon knuckle under."

"I'll warrant he will," replied Captain Cleat grimly, "or I shall have something to say in the matter. You, Roy, take this blubbering boy for'ard, and see to it that he mends his ways, and that quickly."

Ere long I succeeded in quieting the lad, who was not ten years of age, and gained his confidence sufficiently to hear his story. It was his first voyage, the sloop being the _Jane_ of and from Padstow, and bound for Ipswich.

Beyond that he could tell me little, having been down with sea-sickness during the voyage round Land's End. It was a matter of some trouble to understand all he said, for he spoke in a quaint Cornish dialect, many of the words being beyond my comprehension.

After a while I told him of the circumstances under which I had been bound 'prentice to this villainous Captain Cleat, and impressed upon him the necessity, for his own sake, of obeying the pirates' orders, since he might plead compulsion if good fortune delivered him from this accursed ship.

With that he brightened up, and began to tell me--as they say Cornishmen are fond of doing--all his family's history, bringing in names of people whom I never expect to meet. Yet I gleaned that the lad's name was Dick Buzza, his father being a fisherman of Padstow. The _Jane_ was not manned by any of the lad's relations, but every member of her crew was an acquaintance of the elder Buzza, so that the ruthless abandonment of the hapless men told heavily upon the sole survivor.

For the next month our cruise was full of incident. Hardly a day passed without some vessel or other being spoken. In some cases Captain Cleat thought fit to maintain the role of harmless trader; in others he did not hesitate to cripple the stranger with gun-fire, and complete the work by boarding and cutting down every member of the crew. Then, having plundered the prize, he would send her to the bottom.

Soon our booty became so large that the _Damsel of Lyme_, deeply laden, was compelled to put into an obscure port of Brittany, where unscrupulous persons were ever ready to purchase the ill-gotten cargo without troubling how or whence it came.

Even though I made up my mind to break away from these lawless ruffians at the first available opportunity, it seemed as if I was doomed to exist in a state of bondage, for while in port I was not allowed to set foot ashore. Even my actions while on deck were subjected to a strict watch. This, in a measure, was a kind of consolation, for had Captain Cleat had confidence in the effect of his threat he would not have been so jealous of my liberty while in port.

In any case I knew full well that my life was in peril on board the _Damsel of Lyme_--be it at the hands of the pirates or their antagonists. This thought prompted me to cast about to find some means of freeing myself from the toils of Captain Hannibal Cleat, but ere long my deliverance was effected in a very unsatisfactory manner.

It was, indeed, a case of out of the stock-pot into the fire. But of that anon.

Chapter VII.

Catching A Tartar.

ONE bright morning the _Damsel of Lyme_ cast off from the quay at Plougastel and headed for the open waters of the vast Bay of Biscay.

The number of our crew was now increased by two, the new hands being two drunken Breton fishermen who had been induced to serve aboard the pinnace under no false pretences. Fishermen they were termed, yet I'd wager that they were wreckers.

With stores replenished and the men flush with money--for the _Damsel of Lyme_ had weighed directly the proceeds of the booty had been apportioned--the pinnace sailed with a definite object in view.

A rich convoy was expected at Corunna from the Indies, and, since 'twas almost certain that the merchantmen would straggle, Captain Cleat hoped to be able to cut off one of the deeply-laden craft without much chance of being discovered. So a course was shaped towards Cape Finisterre, where more express news might be obtained as to the expected arrival of the Hispaniola Fleet.

For five or six days the _Damsel of Lyme_ cruised off the north-west Spanish coast. Several small coasting craft were judiciously questioned, for Captain Hannibal Cleat was a born play-actor, and adopted the role of a pilot of the Douro River to perfection. Thus, without causing alarm, he was able to obtain all the information possible, though 'twas not sufficient nor definite enough to please him.

At length, above the long regular rollers of the Atlantic appeared the topsails of a large fleet, straggling over more than ten miles of sea.

The wind was north-west, and the ships were sailing as close to the wind as possible. This was to our advantage, since those that made the worst leeway tailed off the farthermost from their escort.

"'Tis the silver fleet, sure enow!" exclaimed the Captain. "We'll lie close, and ere morning yonder caravel will be ours."

He pointed to a cumbersome-looking high-sided vessel that, unable to sail within a point of the next worst ship, had already drifted a good league from the rest of the convoy.

A look of malevolent joy passed over the features of the rascally crew. There was determination written on their faces; they meant to take the marked ship at all costs. Some of their number might fall and could ill be spared, but, after all, what mattered? The larger would be the share of the spoil.

Running well before the wind the _Damsel of Lyme_ passed a good two leagues from the caravel, and, as darkness set in, turned her course towards the twinkling poop-lanterns of the unsuspecting Spaniard.

Captain Cleat's plans were well laid. The three pieces of ordnance were crammed to their muzzles with scraps of iron, the arquebuses were carefully charged and primed, while every man, stripped to the waist, had decorated his bronzed face and body with weird designs in red ochre and white chalk.

"Mark well what I say, boys," ordered the Captain; "when we board do you remain here. Recharge all three cannon and keep your matches ready for instant use."

Although the pinnace was a pirate ship the Spaniards are our natural enemies; thus I had no compunction in carrying out my instructions with a good grace.

At about two hours after midnight the pinnace crept within pistol-shot of the caravel, yet not a sound betrayed our presence to the careless watch on deck.

We could see her tall masts and faintly-drawing canvas standing out against the darkness of the night, the phosphorescent swirl from her rudder, and the curling bow-wave from her bluff entry. Occasionally we could hear the quick chatter of a pair of quarrelsome sailors, or the twang of a mandolin, while through her brilliantly-lighted stern-gallery windows came the clatter of the dice, for her officers were playing far into the night.

Motioning the helmsman to keep an even course, Captain Cleat sprang into the main chains on the larboard side. For a few moments he watched, then his stentorian voice awoke the stillness of the night.

"Surrender, you Spanish dogs!"

He spoke in English, knowing full well that the officers, as well as most of the common seamen, would readily understand the stern summons.

'Twas all confusion. Men rushed hither and thither, but for the most part they clustered in the bulwarks, ready to repel with pike and sword any attempt at boarding.

This was exactly as Captain Cleat wished, for when the crush was at its height he gave orders to open fire.

The iron hail tore gaps in the dense mass of men, then ere the survivors could recover from their surprise, the two vessels were rubbing sides, and every man aboard the pinnace discharged his arquebus, then leapt for the lofty bulwarks of the caravel.

All this while we were not idle, for we placed double charges into the culverin and the two sakers, filling up their gaping muzzles with a mixture of death-dealing missiles.

Just as we had completed the task I suddenly became aware of a strange lull in the conflict. Then, with a yell of rage and pain, Captain Hannibal Cleat's enormous body leapt from the bulwarks of the Spanish craft right on to our narrow deck.

"Let 'em have it!" he shouted to me, at the same time running forward with an axe.

The blinding flash of the culverin and the death-dealing storm of iron checked those of the Spaniards who would have jumped aboard us. The first saker cooled their ardour still more, and, ere I could bring the match to the third piece, Captain Cleat had severed the rope that held us to the caravel, and instantly the gap betwixt us began to widen.

"Bravely done, lad!" shouted my master, as he came aft for the tiller. 'Twas the only sentence of admiration he had ever addressed to me since I set foot aboard the _Damsel of Lyme_, and the pleasure of hearing him speak thus made me forget that I was aught but an Englishman fighting 'gainst the might of Spain.

Once more another irregular volley whizzed around us, but the pinnace was already slipping through the water, and beyond a few splinters and the severing of a rope or two no great damage was done. This discharge was followed by a desultory fire till the last report echoed across the sea.

The _Damsel of Lyme_ was lost to the sight of our foes in the blackness of the night.

Beyond the few words Captain Cleat had uttered when he regained the deck of the pinnace not a word had been spoken. He remained at the helm, his huge body leaning heavily upon the massive oaken tiller and his head slightly inclined as if lost in thought. Owing to the darkness I could not distinguish his features, but the exertion had evidently told upon him, since I could see his broad shoulders heaving regularly in the effort to recover his breath.

'Twas certain that the _Damsel of Lyme_ had met her match. The attempt to board had been repulsed, and, with the exception of Captain Cleat, every man of her crew who had set foot upon the Spaniards' deck had either been captured or killed.

Chapter VIII.

Captured!

NO sooner were we well away from the Spanish ship which we had so rashly attacked than I bethought me of young Dick Buzza.

I looked around for him, but he was nowhere to be seen. Mustering up courage, I braved the Captain's displeasure, and thrice called the lad softly by name. Still there was no answer.

As Captain Cleat did not call me to silence, but remained at his post, I went for'ard, thinking the lad was down below.

My voice echoed in the empty space of the fo'c'sle, but there came no reassuring reply. Then the thought flashed across my mind that perhaps the boy had been struck by a chance shot; yet I had heard no cry of pain on board the pinnace.

It did not take me long to complete the round of her decks, but no body lay upon her planks.

There were splinters, shattered blocks, and several ropes, while here and there a gaping hole in the bulwarks testified that some of the caravel's shot had told. Presently I came across a dark stain upon the deck. Close to it was another, and more leading in a well-defined path, till they reached the tiller, where the Captain still remained in his attitude of seeming ease.

"You are wounded, sir!" I exclaimed, in alarm and anxiety. An hour or so previously I would have welcomed the fact, but now, under different circumstances, I felt sincerest compassion towards the Captain.

"Ay, Roy," he replied, in a deep voice. "They've done for me. The rascally caravel was packed with soldiers, and we ne'er had a chance."

"Perchance 'tis not a mortal wound," said I. "Can I wash and bind it up? I am not used to so doing, yet I'll do my best."

"All the binding in the world will do no good," he replied. "'Tis bleeding inwardly. See," and, tearing open his doublet, he disclosed a small wound in the right breast, from which the blood welled slowly.

"Tomorrow you and the Cornish lad will be alone," he continued. "See to it that you save the pinnace from the Spaniards. Steer nor'-nor'-east, and, perchance, you'll be picked up by an English craft. Make good your case, and all will be well. But if----"

Here he broke off and begged for water. This I procured, and at the same time told him of the disappearance of Dick Buzza.

"Frightened out of his wits, I'll warrant," quoth he. "You'll doubtless find him down below in the hold. Now leave me and get you a decent rest, for by to-morrow you'll have your hands full, yet keep within hearing, lest I call."

To this I demurred, but Captain Cleat insisted with such vehemence that I instantly obeyed, wondering why he should, when at the point of death, show such unwonted consideration for the 'prentice he had so harshly ill-used.

I lay down upon the deck close to the foremast, with a coil of rope for a pillow and a piece of canvas over me to keep off the heavy dew. For a long while I could not sleep, for the excitement of the conflict, Dick's disappearance, and the Captain's injuries were constantly in my mind; but at length I fell into a troubled slumber.

Suddenly I was awakened by hearing the Captain shouting my name. I started to my feet and looked around, hardly able to grasp the situation.

It was broad daylight; the sun's rays glanced upon the long swell of the ocean, the crests of which were ruffled by a faint southerly breeze. Not a sail was in sight, which was much to be thankful for.

"Come hither, boy!"

The strength of the Captain's voice astonished me. Surely a man at the point of death could scarce shout like that? Then, as I drew near, I perceived a strange look in his eyes.

"Hasten," he continued. "Look around. We are in the midst of the Spanish ships. They lie thick around us; but, sink me, they'll not take the _Damsel of Lyme_!"

He paused for a moment to take his breath, then, speaking rapidly in short, almost incoherent sentences, he continued:

"Quick, lad. Under the cabin floor lies the powder. You know of it full well. Young Staynton was hidden there. Take this pistol, fire right into the thick of it, and we'll make one last journey together. Stop not to think--obey."

I stood still, trembling like a leaf. The Captain was in the grip of delirium.

"What ho, there! Mutiny? Sink me! James! George! come hither, and toss this rascal overboard. Where are you? A murrain on all of you, then; I'll fire the mine myself."

Silently I crept behind him and placed myself betwixt the cabin and the tiller. At all events, I must prevent Captain Cleat from putting his insane resolve into execution.

"Ha, there you are, you young rogue! Now, for the last time, wilt do it? Nay? Then take this, for Captain Hannibal Cleat was never known to miss."

Flourishing the heavy pistol, the demented Captain aimed full at my head and pressed the trigger. I could hear the wheel rasping 'gainst the flint, and saw the powder splutter in the pan. Then, moved by a sudden impulse, I threw myself flat upon the deck. The weapon exploded with startling report, the bullet passing through the low bulkhead a foot or so above my head.

I picked myself up and scrambled over the breastwork, determined to do my utmost to keep the madman at bay.

Then it was that his tone of command turned to one of entreaty.

"Hearken, Roy, and use discretion. Wouldst prefer the slow, lingering tortures of a Spanish prison to the swift, sharp ending that would come if we fire the powder?"

"You are mistaken," I replied. "There are no Spanish ships in sight."

With that he broke into a storm of cursing, and, leaving the tiller, he lurched, knife in hand, towards my place of shelter.

I saw that I must act, and that quickly. Seizing a musquetoon and wielding it clubwise, I stood on the defensive. The odds were with me, since he was already reeling with exhaustion.

Three steps did he take, then, without any apparent warning, his knees bent, and he fell in a heap upon the deck.

Throwing down my now needless weapon, I hastened to where he lay. One brief glance was sufficient. Captain Hannibal Cleat was no more.

I was now free to search for Dick Buzza, so, dragging the Captain's corpse into the shade of the poop, and covering it with an ensign, I hastened to take a lantern and examine the two holds. I hoped that in his fright the lad had rushed below and had fallen asleep through sheer weakness, but a thorough search revealed nothing. His fate was a mystery. I could only conjecture that, a prey to an irresistible terror, he had leapt over the side.

On returning upon deck I found that the pinnace had run up in the wind, and was lying hove-to.

Using my very scanty knowledge of seamanship, I contrived to lower the maintopsail, square the foresail, and thus sail easily before the wind.

By lashing the tiller I was enabled to leave the helm for long periods, in order to attend to the preparation of my meals and to make a thorough examination of the ship.

Ere leaving the Brittany ports she had got rid of the bulk of the booty, but there was enough money and valuables to make a man rich for life. 'Twas ill-gotten, truly, but that was not of my doing, so I prepared to return to England according to Captain Cleat's instructions ere his fit of madness came over him.

I therefore heaved the Captain's body over the side, having first attached a piece of ballast to his feet. Then, gathering all the gold pieces I could find, I placed them in a canvas sack and stowed them in the limbers of the ship, so that only by the most minute search would they be likely to be discovered.

I next proceeded to make all shipshape as far as possible, clumsily splicing all the ropes that had been shot away, and clearing the splinters and fragments from the deck.

Fortunately, the pinnace was well provisioned, and there was water in abundance.

The wind, too, held true, and my spirits rose. Given fine weather and no interference from hostile ships, I hoped to sight the English coast within seven days. There I would run the pinnace ashore, taking the bag of gold, and leave her to her fate. Next time I ventured afloat I would exercise more discrimination in the choice of a vessel, for though I hated my lot aboard the pirate ship, my desire to take to the sea remained as strong as ever.

In this way, musing on the bright future, I continued to indulge in pleasant day-dreams that, as each hour passed, seemed to approach nearer to their realisation.

As night came on I lashed the helm and turned in to a comfortable bunk in the after-cabin, trusting that the wind would hold during the hours of darkness. Worn out and absolutely overdone with the succession of exciting experiences, I fell into a sound, refreshing sleep, awaking when the sun was high in the heavens.

My first thought was to wonder whether the horizon was clear of other vessels. Truth to tell, I was not anxious, under present conditions, to meet even an English ship, while the thought of coming across an Algerine or a Spaniard filled me with keen anxiety.

As far as I could see there appeared no cause for alarm, but the broiling heat of the sun had caused a slight haze to lie in thin banks of fleecy mist upon the sea. Yet the breeze still held, and the ship was keeping fairly on her course.

Knowing the speed of the pinnace under ordinary conditions, and making due allowance for her reduced speed, I guessed that I was about a hundred leagues north-north-west of Cape Finisterre, and every hour my chance of falling in with a Spanish vessel was most surely diminishing.

So, having seen that the _Damsel of Lyme_ held fairly on her course, I kept the helm lashed, and went to prepare a meal. This occupied the best part of an hour, and when I came on deck again I fancied I saw a sail away down to the south-west.

Filled with apprehension, I made my way aloft, and from the maintopmast head looked in the direction of the object of my suspicions.

They were only too well founded. Visible above the bank of mist were the topsails of a large galleon, though her hull was as yet partly concealed by the haze.

"A Spaniard without doubt," I muttered; then taking courage in the fact that, perchance, those on deck might not have observed my small craft, I swarmed down on deck and proceeded to hoist the maintopsail.

It was a hard task for one pair of hands, but by the aid of tackles I succeeded in getting the heavy yard up chock-a-block, and squaring the drawing canvas.

Nobly the pinnace responded to the increased call upon her speed, and, leaving a long wake astern, she slipped swiftly through the waves.

This continued for about an hour, and, to my unbounded satisfaction, the gap between the two vessels began to widen appreciably.

Suddenly I noticed a dark line ruffling the waters astern. The mist disappeared as if by magic, disclosing every detail of the pursuing craft. Almost at the same time I saw men swarming up her rigging to shorten sail.

I knew full well what it meant. It was a squall approaching, and I was helpless to act. Already the way of the pinnace was too great to allow one to leave the helm. One instant's neglect to grasp the tiller would have caused her to broach to, with disastrous results. It must be a case of holding my course and trusting to Providence.

On board the galleon they were barely in time ere the squall overtook her. For a moment her bluff bows sank deep in the water, then, as she gathered an increased way, the foam flew in cascades from her stem.

This much I was able to discern by taking hasty glances over my shoulder, and, apprehensively, I waited for the powerful gust to overtake me.

Bracing myself at the tiller, I endeavoured to keep the _Damsel of Lyme_ straight before the wind. I could hear its moaning, yet dared not face the on-coming danger. Then, with a loud groaning and straining, the braces began to tauten, and the canvas to belly out as the first puff struck the pinnace; but ere she could gather sufficient way, the main squall swooped down.

I felt the water swirling up to my knees, while in the midst of a deafening crash the mainmast snapped off three feet from the deck, the wreckage wrenching the foreyard from its slings. Then, as the little craft broached to, the vicious green seas swept clean over her, and it was as much as I could do to save myself from being swept overboard.

Within ten minutes the squall had passed, and the weather was calm again, though the sea still ran high. The pinnace still floated, and, in spite of the trailing wreckage, seemed fairly buoyant.

I looked around for the Spanish ship. During the squall she had considerably overrun the _Damsel of Lyme_, but had backed her mizzen-topsail, with the evident intention of sending a boat.

My dreams of reaching England with the pinnace were doomed to be rudely shattered. I could think of no satisfactory plan to evade capture. If I hid below, it was unlikely that the Spaniard would be content with an informal search, and being discovered would add to my troubles. Neither could I hope to pass for a Frenchman, or, in fact, anybody but an English lad.

The Spaniards' longboat was hoisted out, and two officers and half a score of seamen tumbled into her. With the exception of the officers, who wore rapiers and pistols, the boat's crew were unarmed. The blades of the oars fell into the water with alacrity, and quickly the boat headed towards the _Damsel of Lyme_.

When within a short distance of the pinnace, one of the officers stood up and hailed me, but, being ignorant of the language, I could only shake my head.

Thereupon he tried again, apparently in another tongue, and meeting with the same result, tried yet again, this time in fair English:

"What ship is that?"

"The _Damsel of Lyme_, armed trader."

"Then throw me a rope."

I heaved with more vigour than precision, for the coil flew straight at his head. Only by raising his arm was the officer able to avoid a blow on the head, and even then his velvet cap fell from his closely-cropped hair.

He muttered angrily in his beard, and disdainfully threw the rope to the bowman, who quickly brought the boat alongside. The crew, led by the officers, swarmed over the side, and the _Damsel of Lyme_ was in the possession of the hated Spaniards.

"Where is the Captain?" demanded the officer who had before spoken to me.

He was a man of about fifty years of age, tall and slender, with a bronzed face, narrow, beady eyes, and, as I mentioned before, short black hair and pointed beard. His olive complexion was rendered still more swarthy by constant exposure to the salt breezes and the glare of the sun, but I noticed that his hands were long and thin, the well-cared-for fingers being heavily jewelled.

Knowing it was of no use to mince matters, I told him of our encounter with one of the ships of the Hispaniola Fleet, and how Captain Cleat had met his end.

"This, then, is not a ship belonging to the heretic Queen of England? Where are the ship's papers?"

I could not enlighten the haughty officer concerning the second question. The first I preferred to ignore. Thereupon he gave orders to the boat's crew, who immediately went below to search the vessel. The two officers remained on deck, the one questioning me closely, while the other smiled complacently, and stroked his beard as his companion translated my replies.

"What is your name, you piratical young dog?" he asked, after a while.

I told him.

"Roy? Are you, perchance, a relative of one Richard Roy, aforetime pilot to His Most Gracious Majesty King Philip?"

"He was my father, sir," I replied eagerly. "Why do you ask? Is he still alive? Do you know where he is?" and a string of similar questions delivered with the impatience of youth, and with the keenness for information respecting my long-lost parent.

To all this my questioner seemed absolutely indifferent, and with an exasperating languidness entered into conversation with his fellow-officer, though at times they gesticulated with their hands, after the manner of the people of southern climes.

Presently one of the seamen returned, and made a voluble report, while in a few moments he was joined by another, who bore a bejewelled crucifix that Captain Cleat had taken from a Spanish vessel many years ago, and had kept on board in an iron-bound trunk.

Both officers had crossed themselves at the sight of this silent witness to rank piracy, and, after giving several orders, the one who had spoken with me got into the longboat.

Thereupon two of the sailors motioned me to follow. Since my arms were not bound nor any attempt at ill-usage had been made, I began to feel more at ease, though I knew full well that I was a prisoner, and a member of the crew of a pirate to boot.

As the boat pushed off I could see that the Spaniards who had been left on board the pinnace were hard at work cutting away the wreckage, so that it was evident that they meant to stand by the prize, and not remove the booty and scuttle her. No doubt they had found out that the _Damsel of Lyme_ was thoroughly seaworthy as far as her hull was concerned, and that she was built on good lines for swift sailing. Properly handled, she would prove a valuable asset to any fleet.

As I looked back at her, I felt that another chapter of my life had come to a close. It had not been a pleasant one, 'tis true, but it might well have been worse. I was now face to face with captivity in the hands of the hated Spaniards.

Many and fearsome were the stories I had heard of their cruelty to heretics, and as I turned and gazed at the vast bulk of the galleon I prayed for strength to bear my tribulations with the fortitude of a true-born Englishman.

Chapter IX.

Don Iago D'Alvarez.

THE galleon was at least four times the length of the _Damsel of Lyme_, and carried two tiers of guns, with additional ordnance under her poop. Even at her waist she was full twenty feet above her waterline, while fore and aft she towered to almost twice that height.

She was painted black, with two broad yellow bands, while her stern was finished off with two wide galleries richly gilded. She had three masts, with a short one at her bowsprit, each of which carried a circular top, whence bowmen and arquebusiers could seriously annoy an enemy at close range.

Over her taffrail, which was fitted with three enormous lanterns with elaborately decorated ironwork, floated the red and gold flag of Aragon and Castile, with its embellishments too numerous to describe.

As the boat swept past her stern, I read the name _San Josef_.

Directly we came over the side my captor had me led to the quarter-deck, where stood the Captain, a man even more haughty in manner and dignified in appearance than the officer who had me in his charge.

It was a lengthy report that the latter made, but when he had finished, the Captain gravely inclined his head without saying a word.

"Boy, you are to be my prisoner," announced his subordinate. "Yet, 'tis in your hands to decide what your treatment shall be. Give us no trouble, and answer me well and truly, and 'twill go easy with you. Now go forward and get food and drink. Yon seaman will provide you in that way. Then see to it that you are well washed, and don clean apparel. This done, you will be brought to my cabin, for I have much to say to you."

With that I was led away, wondering mightily at the condescension of my captor, and more concerning his knowledge of my father.

It was about high noon when, having carried out my instructions, I was taken aft. As I passed along the upper deck I could see that the _San Josef_ had resumed her course, and was steering approximately due east.

Something compelled me to walk to the leeside, and though the seaman who accompanied me followed close at my heels, he made no effort to prevent me. I was not mistaken. Wallowing half a cable's length astern was the _Damsel of Lyme_, towed by a huge hempen hawser, while the men who had been left on board were still busily engaged in rigging a jury mast. I could not help wondering whether they had discovered my secret hoard of gold, or whether the limbers of the pinnace still guarded my easily gotten wealth.

A smart touch upon my shoulder recalled me to my position. My guardian pointed significantly towards the companion-ladder, and, descending a semicircular flight of steps, I gained the maindeck. Here the space seemed immense, for I could actually stand upright under the deck-beams, while betwixt the rows of ordnance there was a clear space of full ten paces. The galleon was a veritable floating castle.

Still aft we went till the sailor stopped short before a door over which was a plate of brass engraved with the words _Tiente Po_, which I afterwards learnt signified First Lieutenant. Here he knocked, and, on being answered, carefully opened the door and beckoned me to enter.

I found myself in a spacious cabin, well lighted by the windows in the stern gallery. The place was splendidly furnished, the table and chairs being of walnut. Rich hangings covered the walls, while on the floor a thick green and gold carpet deadened every sound of one's feet. Through the windows I caught sight of the _Damsel of Lyme_ still yawing as she laboured through the green rollers in tow of the huge galleon.

Seated at the head of the table, and idly toying with a massive silver goblet, was the officer who had brought me from the pinnace. Without speaking, he motioned me to stand at the foot of the table. This I did, and he remained for some moments looking fixedly at me with his small, sharp eyes, till I began to feel ill at ease.

"Well, Señor Ralph," he began at length, "I trust you will, for your own sake, answer me fully and truly. Has your father ever said aught to you concerning one Don Iago d'Alvarez?"

"Nay, sir," I replied, which was the truth, since my father had said little to me relating to his adventure, which I have heretofore mentioned.

"Art quite certain? Then I am Don Iago d'Alvarez, and a friend of your father. Now, has he ever said aught about a certain mine in New Spain?"

"Ay," I replied. "But of that very little."

"'Tis well. Now listen. Many years ago he and I discovered a rich mine. Unfortunately, we were--shall I say--separated? Consequently the locality of the mine remains a secret. Now, if I give you safe conduct through France to your home, will you lay hands on a certain chart, somewhat like this one, and bring it to me? That done, I swear by my patron saint that you will be set free, and, moreover, a fair portion of the proceeds of the mine will be yours."

"Before I answer, Don Iago, where is my father? Is he still alive?"

For a half instant the Spaniard's brows contracted.

"He is; but, you may regret to hear, he is--shall I say--detained? To put it briefly, he is a prisoner. Yet he is my comrade. Years ago we swore everlasting friendship; that friendship still exists. Now, if you can lay your hands on the chart, the profits of the mine will go partly towards the payment of your father's fine and partly to me, while both parties will, I know, contribute towards the share that you will have well and truly earned.

"Now consider; the time is short. Ere tomorrow morning we shall reach Vigo, make over the prize, and put to sea again. If you have not then decided, there will be no other course open than to hand you over to the Governor of the town as a pirate. Agree to my terms, and you will be shipped to Bordeaux or Nantes, whence you can travel overland to Le Havre, and so to England."

There was something about d'Alvarez's manner that caused me to hesitate. In spite of his professions of friendship, there was a veiled menace in his speech.

"I'll go right willingly," I replied, "provided that I first see my father and obtain his permission."

Again Don Iago contracted his brows, then, discarding his haughty calmness, he exclaimed impatiently:

"That is impossible. Your father cannot be seen by anybody save the officers of Government and the members of the Holy Office."

"Then how am I to know whether he is alive; and what pledge have I that, should the plan be found and the mine rediscovered, my father will obtain his release?"

"You have the word of one of the hidalgos of Spain," he replied grandiloquently. "Let that suffice."

"'Twill not suffice for me," I rejoined with English bluntness. "Until I see my parent and obtain his free and full permission to do what you ask, the matter must remain as it is."

"Consider, my boy!" he exclaimed angrily.

"I have considered," I replied shortly.

"You refuse?"

"I do."

"Then on your head be the consequences. Your fate as a pirate will be sure and swift; as a heretic 'twill be none the less sure, but long-drawn, since 'tis not the custom of the Holy Office to send heretics to the stake without first inflicting pain upon their bodies to purge their stubborn souls. Now choose quickly; my terms or the tender mercies of the Inquisition."

'Twould be vain to pretend that I was aught but horribly frightened. To fall into the hands of the Inquisition was ever regarded as the most awful fate that could befall a hapless prisoner, and the memories of the cruelties inflicted upon free-born Englishmen during the last reign still rankled in the hearts of my fellow-countrymen. Therefore it was not surprising that I tried to temporise.

"'Tis a strange way to show your friendship for my father, Don Iago. I pray you, think more of the matter. Without the plan all hope of finding the mine is, I take it, lost. With both my father and me kept prisoners you will not gain anything. All that I ask is to see my father and obtain his permission."

"By my head!" he exclaimed in a passion. "Am I to be talked to thus by a mere boy? Terms, forsooth! 'Tis I who hold the stakes. Your doom is sealed, young fool!"

Before I had time to say or do more he clapped his hands, and immediately two soldiers entered the cabin.

Don Iago snapped his fingers and thumb expressively, the men stepped beside me, and laid their hands heavily upon my shoulder. I glanced at the Spaniard. He had resumed his seat, and was again toying with the goblet, as if unmindful of my presence. Thinking it useless to say more, I preserved silence, and, unresistingly, was led from the cabin.

Down in the bowels of the great ship I was taken, till forward in the gloom of the orlop deck I was thrust into a small prison-like den, lighted only by a horn lantern swinging from the low deck-beam.

Here, with the dexterity acquired by long practice, the soldiers clapped me in bilboes, so that I could scarce move a yard in any direction. Then, having made sure that the padlock was properly secured, they left a pannikin of water and a crust of rye-bread by my side, removed the lantern, and left me.

I heard the oaken door creak on its hinges and the dismal sound of the rusty bolts being shot. Then, in utter darkness, I lay a helpless prisoner. 'Twas my first taste of captivity in the cruel clutch of Spain.

Chapter X.

Aboard The _San Josef_.

FOR a long while I lay motionless, too much overwhelmed with the horror of my position even to think. The darkness was so intense that it actually seemed to have weight. It pressed, as it were, upon my eyes as I strove to discern my surroundings.

To add to my discomfort, the peculiar motion of my prison, totally different to the heave of the deck that I was so accustomed to, told upon me. The jerky swaying caused my manacles to chafe my wrists and ankles, while the chains rattled dismally with every roll of the ship.

Not so very far beneath the rough flooring the noxious bilge-water surged incessantly, while through a seam in the stout planking a thin stream of water trickled, to join the confined liquid in the hold. Ever and anon came the thud of a wave as the galleon lifted her bluff bows to the billow, while the timbers groaned and creaked complainingly at the tremendous hammering of the angry sea.

At length I bestirred myself, and began to grope as far as my fetters would allow. The men had left me half lying, half sitting, upon a massive timber or rib, to which my chains were fixed. This rib was about eight inches in width and the same in thickness, curving abruptly in an upright direction just beyond the part on which I lay. By placing my hand downwards I could touch the moist and slimy planking, betwixt which and the floor was a gap of nearly a palm's breadth, through which every abnormal heave of the ship caused the bilge-water to sluice upwards and over the floor.

Still groping, I found my hands come in contact with the after-bulkhead. 'Twas so solid that by knocking upon it only a very slight sound was produced. The other bulkhead was equally thick, while my scope of chain was insufficient for me to try the door.

Then I tried my fetters. They fitted so closely that there was certainly no possibility of being able to slip them off, while, being without a file, I could not sever the links. Otherwise I believe I would have freed myself, waited till the door was unbarred, made a dash on deck, and thrown myself into the sea.

But calmer counsels prevailed. I resolved to bear my troubles manfully, but to let slip no opportunity whereby I could effect my escape.

Presently I began to get hungry, and, remembering that the soldiers had placed bread and water on the floor close to the timbers on which I was sitting, I felt cautiously till my fingers came in contact with the bread.

Instead of the hard crust the bread was soft and clammy. The bilge-water had spoilt it utterly. Even as I grasped the food I felt something glide over my hand. It required no one to tell me that the intruder was a rat.

Quickly withdrawing my hand, my elbow struck the pannikin, and ere I could prevent it the whole of the water was spilt with the exception of, perhaps, half a gill. This I drank, so as to make sure of it, and my thirst being somewhat assuaged, I felt better. Ever and again I would shake my fetters violently for the purpose of scaring off the rats, for, attracted by the ryebread, others had joined the first, and were scampering all over the place.

As the time slowly sped the rats grew bolder, and even the most violent rattling failed to keep them off. They even jumped over me, and more than once I was badly bitten by their sharp teeth, till I began to be afraid that ere long my strength would give out, and, from sheer exhaustion, I would fall a prey to the loathsome creatures.

Suddenly there was a cessation to the rats' attentions, and I was left alone. Then it was that I became aware that the wind and sea were increasing, for the galleon heeled and floundered till I was well-nigh thrown from my precarious perch. Moreover, the bilge-water began to increase in volume, and although for some time I comforted myself with the thought that 'twas owing to the increased list of the ship, I was at length bound to come to the conclusion that the galleon was leaking badly and the water was slowly and surely gaining.

Above the now frequent buffeting of the waves against the planking I could distinguish the clank of the pumps and the subdued sounds of the men rushing hither and thither on deck.

More and more sluggish became the motion of the _San Josef_, till in my feverish brain I imagined that the huge vessel was already plunging to her ocean grave. Then she heeled till the floor seemed nearly vertical, and the bilge-water surged and frothed furiously through the aperture betwixt the planking and the stringers.

'Twas then that I gave myself up for lost, yet the sense of self-preservation was not lacking. I tore at my chains till the leg-irons cut into my ankles and the manacles lacerated my wrists; yet I felt no pain, though my injuries were severe. My body was numbed, but my anguished mind was fully alive to the gravity of my condition.

It seemed hours ere the galleon recovered her normal heel, and even then, in the darkness, I felt none too sure of it. But in a measure I was reassured. The _San Josef_ still remained afloat.

Still, the disquieting knowledge came home to me that the vessel was leaking badly. Already, during the intervals of the galleon's recovery, the water lay a foot deep over the floor of my prison, while, as she heeled to the blast, the depth increased till, sitting upright on the rib, I was submerged up to my waist.

Then it was that I raved and shouted, but in vain. Even had my captors been inclined to show pity, the roar of the elements and the thick walls of my prison effectually deadened every sound. Presently, numbed with the cold and terrified into a state bordering on madness, I fell into a kind of stupor.

Of how long I continued thus I have not the faintest recollection, but after awhile I was compelled to stand as upright as the height of the deck beams would permit to prevent the water washing over my face. Bracing myself as firmly as possible, I strove to keep my feet, the strain upon my manacles serving to steady me, save when a heavy roll threatened to pitch me into the deepest part of the accumulated bilge-water.

Hope seemed dead, for I felt that I would be unable to withstand the strain for long. Already I imagined myself sliding inertly into the water that was fast filling my pitch-dark prison.

Soon the sickening list to starboard gave place to a succession of short, steep pitches, while the _San Josef_ seemed to be sailing more upon an even keel. She had, without doubt, altered her course, and was running over shallow water before a heavy sea.

Then, without warning, came a dull, grinding crash, and I was thrown violently sideways till brought up by my fetters. With the shock the bilge-water surged forward with such irresistible force that some of the oaken planks of my prison were wrenched from their fastenings. Like a foaming torrent the flood continued till, standing with my head and shoulders 'gainst the deck overhead, it reached above my chin.

Almost as suddenly the water subsided, the motion of the vessel became comparatively easy, and I heard the hempen hawser rush through the hawsepipe.

The _San Josef_ had gained a harbour of refuge and had anchored in sheltered waters. This knowledge, even though it might be but a brief respite to my miseries, was comforting, and, overcome by the sudden change, I fell senseless across the oaken timber to which I was fettered.

When I opened my eyes I was at first unable to think where I was or what had happened. After a while I found myself lying on the quarter-deck with my head supported by a coil of rope. My doublet had been opened, and my chest and forehead had been sprinkled with vinegar.

The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky; the galleon had taken in her canvas and now rode head to wind. Lying on my back I could see the truck of her tapering main t'gallant describing a swinging motion across the sky as the ship rolled slightly to the ground-swell within the harbour.

Then my upward vision was interrupted by a man bending over me, and in an instant I recognised Don Iago d'Alvarez. There was a strange, almost indescribable, look in his eyes. 'Twas as if he feigned compassion, though he meant it not. Behind the mask of kindness lurked implacable cruelty; avarice prompted him to adopt the guise of benevolence.

For a few moments he stood regarding me, then, speaking to some of the seamen, he indicated a part of the deck where the mainmast threw a deep shadow athwart the glistening snow-white planks.

Thither I was taken, and a tankard of wine poured down my throat, while a chirurgeon placed some bandages round my chafed and bleeding wrists and ankles. These attentions eased both my body and mind, and, greatly comforted, I lay still, watching the seamen attend to their duties.

My field of vision was restricted to a portion of the quarter-deck, the poop, and the main and mizzen masts. The tall bulwarks hid the view of the land, so that I could not see what manner of place it was. 'Twas certain that the harbour was nearly landlocked, for though the breeze whistled through the rigging aloft, the huge galleon hardly responded to the combined pressure of the wind and the ground-swell.

Evidently the _San Josef_ had been sorely damaged in the gale. The men were handing down the maintopsail, which was rent from the gore-cloth to one of the clews. The running gear had suffered considerably, while a portion of the larboard bulwarks had been swept away. This had caused some of the ordnance to break loose, for there were two falcons and a long brass saker lying overturned 'gainst the starboard poop-ladder. The pumps, too, were working incessantly, showing that the leaks had jeopardised the galleon.

Then my thoughts turned towards the _Damsel of Lyme_. I wondered whether she had been safely towed into port, or whether, in the height of the gale, her captors had been compelled to cast her adrift. Once or twice I attempted to struggle to my feet and look over the bulwarks to see if the pinnace had also gained the harbour, but the effort was beyond me. Each time the chirurgeon hastened to my side, giving me far more attention than a prisoner, and a pirate to boot, ought to expect.

This puzzled me greatly. The sudden change from mental and bodily torture to careful consideration seemed so unreal that my misgivings increased.

Presently four seamen approached, and, lifting me in their arms, carried me to the gangway. Here a shore boat was lying alongside, and into it I was placed. Without delay the boat pushed off and rowed rapidly towards the shore.

Now I could see about me. On all sides save the harbour entrance the land rose abruptly from the waters of the harbour. Ahead clustered the houses of a town of considerable size, the place being strongly walled and protected with several forts. Two castles also guarded the mouth of the harbour. Several vessels of all sizes were lying at anchor, and I looked in vain for the graceful outlines of the _Damsel of Lyme_.

Smartly the boat was run alongside a stone quay fronting the water-gate. The latter was so narrow that scarcely three men could enter abreast, while a horseman would have to stoop to pass under the pointed arch. Above the gateway was a coat-of-arms carved in the white stone, while yet higher were three rows of narrow slits for musketeers and bowmen.

Awaiting us on the quay was the captain of the guard and a file of pikemen, all accoutred with breast and back pieces, steel morions, long swords, and, in the case of the men, pikes nearly twenty feet in length. The officer had, in addition to a long glistening rapier of exquisite steel, a dagger slung at his right hip from a richly embroidered belt.

The boat was immediately challenged, but, on the coxswain producing a letter, the guard fell back and allowed us to pass. I could not repress a shudder as I was led beneath the frowning battlements. But, to my surprise, it was not a prison or a castle to which my guards brought me. We passed along a steep, narrow street, flanked by low stone houses, either flat topped or roofed with brown-red tiles. The absence of timber in the walls gave the town a totally different aspect to the houses at home, while the white stonework almost dazzled me.

Well-nigh choked with the dust that whirled in dense clouds through the streets, the sailors held on their way, surrounded by a throng of townsfolk--men, women, and children--all eager to see the English lad who had been taken by the great galleon. Here and there stalwart soldiers, bronzed with campaigning in New Spain, would pass some jesting remark to my guards, who would as readily reply, and raise a peal of merriment from the onlookers. What they said I knew not, though by their gestures 'twas evident that I figured as the object of their jests.

Since I was still in charge of the seamen and had not been handed over to the military guard, I began to think that, after all, my destination was not to be the gloomy dungeons of the castle. In a way I was right, for after traversing the crowded market-square and another long street, my captors halted before a large stone villa, standing in extensive grounds enclosed by high stone walls.

The gate was opened by an old manservant wearing a livery of black velvet, and, led by him, we passed through an orange grove to the house.

Here I was placed in a small room, evidently a kind of study, for quaint maps hung on the walls, a huge globe stood in one corner, while several leather-bound books were ranged on shelves. On the table were drawing instruments, an astrolabe, and a mariner's compass.

Without a word or a sign my captors left me, locking the door as they did so.

Left to myself, I made a tour of the room to see if there was any possibility of escape.

There were three windows to the room, each filled with stained glass. The first opened without difficulty, but I found that 'twas placed in a deep recess, the walls being quite two feet in thickness, while at the other end a strong iron grille prevented any egress by this way.

It was the same with the other windows. Nothing but a strong file would have enabled me to break out of my place of detention.

Nevertheless, I had an uninterrupted view on three different sides. The room was apparently one of the lower storeys of a tower forming an angle of the house. To the eastward I could see over a thick forest of olives to a range of blue hills that stood out clearly 'gainst a cloudless sky. Southward lay a portion of the town, a maze of red and white stonework, while westward another part of the town sloped steeply towards the harbour. Far beyond the castle-guarded entrance I could see the horizon, dotted with the sails of a large fleet.

Then I turned my attention to the maps, thinking they might give me some idea of the surrounding country. Most of them were Spanish, and unintelligible to me, both as to locality and the names written thereon; but presently I found a chart of Southampton Water, drawn by one Duns Vincent at the sign of the Antelope at Cheapside. Across it were several notes written in Spanish, while, to my surprise, I read in the bottom left-hand corner the words, "Ric: Roy, his Mappe. A.D. 1552."

It was my father's chart. How, then, could it have been brought hither?

Beneath it were others of English draughtsmanship, mostly at various portions of the Channel, the approaches to the Thames, and the Essex coast. On every one were marginal notes in Spanish, with unintelligible markings at various points.

Then I turned my attention to the table. Thinking some of the instruments might serve me to some useful purpose at no distant date, I selected a long steel pair of compasses with two fine points. These I was about to conceal in my hose when a voice exclaimed:

"That will not serve, rascal!"

Turning suddenly, I found myself confronted by Don Iago d'Alvarez.

Chapter XI.

The Inquisition.

UNOBSERVED, the Spaniard had turned the well-oiled lock and silently gained the room. How long he had been there I knew not, but, caught fairly in the act of attempted concealment, I could only look at him in blank dismay.

"Ah, Señor Ralph!" he remarked at length, "'tis a sad failing with lads. They are always prying into other people's business, and helping themselves to anything that meets their eye."

"Since some of the charts are my father's," I retorted, "'tis meet and proper that his son should be allowed to examine them."

Don Iago's face betrayed no surprise at my reply.

"These charts seem to interest you as much as others interest me. To come to the point: You are now in my house, a fact that proves to you that I am able to control your immediate future. You have had a foretaste of what may happen if you obstinately refuse to accept my conditions."

"I refuse to accept your word," I replied. "How can you place reliance on my promise to return with the chart when once I am safe at home?"

"To be blunt with you, your father will be a hostage for your safe return. He knows the position of the mine without having to make use of the plan, but, like you, he is obstinate."

"Then I, too, will be obstinate," I rejoined doggedly.

"My lad," said d'Alvarez softly, "I am sorry for you. There is no alternative but to hand you over to the Holy Office. More, you will be employed to compel your mulish sire to disgorge the secret. 'Tis a last resource, but 'twill not fail."

For a few moments he eyed me keenly, as if to detect any sign of wavering, but I maintained a resolute silence.

Seating himself at the table, Don Iago leisurely took pen and paper, wrote a few lines and sprinkled them with sand.

"Here is the order delivering your body and your soul to the jurisdiction of the Holy Inquisition," quoth he. "Yet, 'tis not too late to change your mind."

"Nay," I replied. "My conditions are simple enow. I ask but to see my father, obtain his free consent, and your desire will be gratified. Otherwise, I refuse, and you can do your worst."

"By the Virgin!" he exclaimed vehemently, "you shall see your father, but not in the way you wish."

Thereupon he folded and sealed the missive and rang a bell. The summons was answered by two powerful-looking men dressed in the same sombre livery as the servant who had admitted me into the house.

Seizing me by the shoulders they marched me forth into the courtyard, where a file of pikemen stood waiting as if anticipating the use of their services. My arms were secured behind my back, and, surrounded by the soldiers, I was marched down the street towards the harbour.

Having traversed the marketplace, the pikemen, instead of taking the road that led to the water-gate, turned off to the left and skirted the water front of the town for a considerable distance.

At length I saw before me a formidable-looking fortress, which I rightly guessed to be the prison wherein heretics and other offenders 'gainst the Popish faith were confined.

It consisted of a lofty eight-sided keep, surrounded by a high embattled "curtain," without which was a double moat crossed by drawbridges, each of which was defended by a barbican. The outer moat appeared to be tidal, but the inner one was filled with stagnant water.

At the outer gateway we were met by an officer and a guard of fully-armed soldiers. The order for the delivery of my body was presented and duly signed, and the pikemen handed me over to the care of half a score of arquebusiers.

By them I was taken across the first drawbridge and placed in a low stone chamber with a heavily-groined roof.

{Illustration: "MY JAILERS HALTED BEFORE A SMALL OAKEN DOOR." [p. 124.}

Here four stalwart men, clad in leathern jerkins, seized hold of me. In a few moments I was stripped to the skin, while to prevent the possible concealment of a weapon or tool of any sort they ran their fingers through my hair and even forced open my mouth.

Having satisfied themselves on this point, they made me don a loose garment not unlike a friar's gown, and fastened fetters to my wrists. The end of a rope was placed round my neck, one of my jailers holding the other end, and in this manner I was marched across the inner drawbridge into the castle itself.

Within all seemed ominously quiet. Here and there were a few monks with clasped hands and downcast eyes, as if unaware of their surroundings, some austere-looking priests, and several brawny men clad similarly to my new custodians.

Passing through the triple gateway of the principal tower, I bade farewell to the open air and the direct sunlight for many a long day. Through a sombre passage I was led slowly and silently, as if the dignified progress were calculated to fill me with awe and terror.

Presently my jailers came to a halt before a small oaken door studded with nails. It was so low that it was necessary to descend three more steps ere a man could pass beneath the flattened arch.

Back swung a heavy door, disclosing a stone-vaulted passage, from which a dank, unwholesome odour emanated. Taking a torch from an iron rack, one of the men lit it and preceded me the others following almost on my heels, after the hindermost man had kindled another torch and carefully relocked the door.

I counted twoscore paces ere the men halted before one of the double row of iron-bound doors that flanked the passage. Over it was the number nineteen, and so long as I remained in the prison I was to be known by that number.

Within the cell, which was barely seven feet by five, the furniture consisted merely of a wooden bench at a height of about two feet from the ground, an earthenware basin and platter, a small bundle of straw, and a coverlet of sackcloth.

One of the thick stone walls was pierced by a small aperture that admitted both light and air--though there was little indeed of the former, for my hasty look around was possible only by the flicker of the torches.

It was a prison wherein a miserable captive had not the remotest chance of escape, but even this did not satisfy my jailers; they must needs fasten a chain round my left ankle ere casting loose the fetters that bound my arms.

Then, having filled my pitcher with water and placed a small brown loaf upon the platter, they left me to my own resources.

I waited till the last sound of their departing footsteps died away, and then mounted upon the bench and raised myself to the aperture. This I accomplished with difficulty, for although the length of the chain permitted me to move thus far, I had to raise its weight in addition to my own.

Owing to the thickness of the walls and the narrowness of the opening in the stonework my range of vision was greatly restricted, but I made the discovery that my cell was partly below the surface of the water in the inner moat. A rise of a foot in its level would flood the prison.

On the farther side of the moat a wall rose sheer to a height of quite twenty feet, the masonry being so smooth that even a rat could not obtain a foothold, while on the summit a musketeer was slowly pacing to and fro.

Eager to learn whether the adjoining cells were tenanted, I dropped back to the floor and knocked upon one of the intervening walls with my platter, putting my ear to the stonework to catch the faintest sound of a reply to my signal. But 'twas in vain; it was the silence of the tomb.

Then I tried the opposite wall, but my ear detected the sound of a most dismal groaning that I was glad to abandon my efforts in that direction. Evidently my neighbour had been the victim of excruciating torture, and had been carried back to die--or to survive solely for the purpose of being put to the rack again.

By degrees my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, and ere nightfall I could discern objects in the cell with as much ease as I had in the torchlight. Strangely enough it was not the fear of what was going to happen that troubled me; it was the deadly monotony that threatened to reduce me to the lowest depths of despair.

Then day after day went by till I lost all count of time. Save for the regular visits of my jailers when they came to supply me with food and water, and an occasional glimpse of the sentry on the wall of the moat, I saw the face of no human being.

After many days I began to realise that my strength was failing me. This I knew to be due mostly to my meagre fare, but 'twas also owing to a lack of exercise. Over the former I had no control, but hereafter I made it part of my daily business to work my arms and legs till the muscles once more began to resume their wonted strength and suppleness.

At length--it must have been some months after the _San Josef_ brought me into harbour--I was startled by the entry of a number of men, whose heads were hidden under long, black, cone-shaped hoods, with holes for their eyes and mouths. They were the "familiars" of the Holy Inquisition.

They filed in silently till the little cell was filled to overflowing. Without speaking a word, they seized me and stripped my cloak-like garment from my shoulders till it served only as a loin-cloth. Into the dismal stone passage I was thrust, then, preceded and followed by the "familiars," was made to traverse a portion of the tunnel-like shaft till further progress was stopped by a blank wall.

Stooping down, one of the men raised a circular slab disclosing a spiral staircase. Descending, I found myself in another passage even more foetid than the other, for the walls were green with slime, and moisture trickled 'twixt every joint in the masonry, causing the torches to splutter and give forth thick smoke continually.

Presently the procession stopped abreast of a deep recess. Here, covered with a sheet, lay a man, so grievously mishandled that his groans were terrible to listen to.

Some of the "familiars" seized the litter on which he lay and bore it joltingly along the passage I had traversed; whilst the others, now numbering but four, compelled me to resume my way.

{Illustration: "FOUR MASKED AND HOODED FAMILIARS ENTERED." [p.138.}

At the end of the subterranean gallery its whole width and height were taken up by a double door. This could be opened only from the remote side, and in reply to a thunderous knock--to enable those within to hear, so thick was the timber--the door was flung back.

For an instant I was almost blinded by the sudden glare, and ere I had time to take in the scene I was pushed forward into a large room and the doors fastened behind me.

The place was nearly a score paces in length, and almost the same in breadth. The walls, floor, and ceiling were of stone, the latter being heavily groined, with a double row of massive rounded pillars to bear the weight of the roof. At one end of the central aisle, if I may term it so, was a raised daïs hung with crimson cloth, above which was a large crucifix.

Seated on the daïs were three men clad in crimson gowns and wearing masks. These were the Chief Inquisitor and his two assistants.

In front and slightly below the daïs was a long table, covered with books and bundles of parchment, while two scriveners were waiting to set down whatever the Inquisitors thought fit to dictate.

Away on the left glowed a brazier of coals, by the side of which a hooded "familiar" was ostentatiously heating a pair of long-handled pincers. Hard by stood the rack, with its complication of pulleys and levers, ready to wring from some unhappy sufferer a confession to a crime he had never committed.

The only officers of the court who were not masked were two pikemen, clad in breast and back pieces, and steel caps somewhat resembling the "pot" of our train-bands.

Standing betwixt two pikemen, with the "familiars" behind me ready to carry out the behests of their masters, I faced the three Inquisitors.

With neither undue haste nor unnecessary delay, one of the scriveners read an indictment in Latin. What it was about I was totally ignorant of, and for the first time in my existence I regretted having refused the offer of old Master Ridge, the apothecary, to teach me that tongue. However, when the reading was completed, the scrivener translated it in very fair English.

It was formidable enough in all sooth. I was charged with being concerned in a heinous crime against the Holy Church, to wit, the theft of a jewelled crucifix identified as having been taken from the cathedral of Carthagena. Furthermore, I was a heretic. These crimes brought me within the arm of the Inquisition. As for the charge of piracy, that had been waived by the Spanish civil courts in order to let the Holy Office wreak its vengeance upon me.

On the first charge I battled desperately for my life, vehemently protesting that I knew nothing of the church ornament till a seaman of the _San Josef_ found it in Captain Cleat's chest.

As to being a heretic, I admitted I was such according to the Popish tenets, but stoutly maintained that I was a member of a religion established by the laws of the realm of England.

Whether the scrivener translated all I said I know not, but within ten minutes my sentence was pronounced.

As a sacrilegist and a heretic I was to be burned at the stake.

Although I had secretly expected it, the actual pronunciation of my fearful sentence made me reel as if stricken with a club. I turned faint and dizzy, my knees shook, and but for the support given by the two soldiers I would have fallen to the ground.

They made no attempt to remove me. As I cowered and trembled the Inquisitors seemed to be taking an unholy delight in watching my misery and despair.

Then the Chief Inquisitor spoke. He had a sweet, melodious voice, the sound of which made me marvel how a man who delighted in inflicting torture and death could speak in such a tone.

When he had finished, the scrivener who acted as interpreter told me that for the time being the execution of my sentence would be deferred or even mitigated. On the earnest supplication of the right worthy Don Iago d'Alvarez mercy might yet be shown me. If, on the other hand, I was obstinate and stiff-necked, torture would be inflicted ere the final punishment took place. In the meantime I was to be removed and allowed the ministrations of a priest to prepare my stubborn mind for the fruits of the true Church.

With that I was marched off--not back to my cell, but to another on the opposite side of the passage.

My jailers kept their torches without, so that at first I could not discover my limited surroundings, but soon I was aware that the cell possessed another occupant. A man was crouching on the low wooden bench, his hunched shoulder denoting complete apathy as to what was going on. I could see that he was of massive frame, though his flesh was shrunken till his cheek-bones protruded under his waxen complexion. A tangle of long dark hair and beard nearly concealed his features.

Somehow or other my instinct told me that it was none other than my father, yet I kept silence till the door closed upon us. Then I called him by name.

Instantly he started, drew his hand across his forehead as if to collect his wits, then springing to his feet with an alacrity that seemed surprising, he grasped me by the shoulder.

"Who are you?" he demanded; then looking earnestly into my face he exclaimed, "Ralph, my son, what evil chance has brought you here?"

For some time after the first few moments of surprise we were deep in conversation, question and answer following in quick succession; then he besought me to tell him of the circumstances under which I was made a prisoner of the Inquisition. We talked in low tones, fearful lest an unseen listener was lurking to trap us into some diabolical snare.

When that ended, he told me the whole story of his dealings with Don Iago d'Alvarez, of the finding of the mine, of the Spaniard's treachery, and of the loss of the silver in the Rio del Foy. "As for the chart he seeks, Ralph," continued my father, "it still remains hidden in our house at Crofton. Without it even I would be unable to find the spot, and it is certain that I cannot commit the secret of the mine within my breast."

"But my mother left the house soon after you disappeared," said I.

"Then if we ever escape from this grave danger the plan can easily be obtained. Something seems to tell me that we may yet be delivered from these fiendish toils. Were I sure it would be otherwise, Ralph, I would as lief strangle you with mine own hands and beat my brains out against this wall, rather than suffer the tortures these incarnate fiends love to inflict."

"Tell me," I said presently, "what happened on the night you were called away and did not return?"

"It is a long story, Ralph. Briefly, it was the doing of d'Alvarez and his crafty companion José da Silva. Knowing where I lived, and wishing to gain the coveted information--thinking, possibly, that I kept the chart ever on my person--they obtained an audience with Philip of Spain and suggested the great importance of securing the person of an English pilot well acquainted with the Channel. I know not whether 'tis now common knowledge at home, but ere long--though it may be years hence--Spain will try her utmost to bring England once more under her yoke. Here it is well known that a large fleet--the largest that the world has ever yet seen--will be built for that purpose, and having use for skilled pilots, the King of Spain did not hesitate to give his ear to the counsels of d'Alvarez and his craven friend.

"So when I was called upon that night I went, mistrusting no one, and on boarding the ship that lay off the haven, 'twas no _Speedie_ of Brixham, but a swift galeas of Cadiz. I discovered the trap ere their longboat ran alongside, but 'twas too late. Several of the rogues had broken pates to remember me thereby, but by weight of numbers they secured me.

"When the vessel reached Spain I was taken to the Escurial into the presence of King Philip. I was offered much gold and plenteous rewards should I take service under him and the expedition prove successful--though the Dons had few doubts as to the latter.

"'Heretofore I was your Majesty's pilot,' I replied. 'And though 'twas by order of my sovereign, 'twas the worst bit of work I ever did for my country. Rest assured, sire, that 'twill not occur again.'

"With that I was hastened off to prison, tortured all to no purpose, for I swore that nothing would make me play the traitor.

"Then it was that d'Alvarez interposed, claimed my person from the King, and obtained his consent to do with me as he would. Now, indeed, he has, through you, hit me hard, but as I hope for eternal salvation, I believe in my heart that you and I will see Old England again."

"And I, too, will be resolute, hoping for a happy issue out of our misfortunes," I added.

At length, by the dimming of the light that filtered in through a narrow grated opening, we knew that evening was drawing nigh. Still we talked in undertones, happy in our reunion in spite of the miserable conditions under which we had met.

Suddenly the door of our cell was opened and the four masked and hooded "familiars" entered. Ghostlike they indicated that I should accompany them. My father clasped me in his arms to take possibly a last farewell, but roughly we were separated, and with a long despairing look I was led forth.

Stripped as before to my waist they brought me to the torture-chamber; then, having placed me between the two pikemen, the "familiars" departed.

Chapter XII.

In The Torture-Chamber.

ALL this while the three Inquisitors sat on the dais, immovable as if carved in stone, while I stood trembling, yet striving to be brave.

Presently the "familiars" returned, haling with them my father, who was scantily attired in much the same manner as I was.

He was placed slightly in advance of me, a pikeman on either side of us, while the four "familiars," like foul birds of prey, grouped themselves in the rear, ready to obey the injunctions of their superiors.

The Chief Inquisitor addressed my sire in Spanish--a language with which he was well acquainted, though to me 'twas quite unintelligible. Then ensued a passage of arms betwixt the two, the ecclesiastic calm and dignified since he held the upper hand, my father alert yet stern in his manner of reply. Evidently his stubbornness began to wear the patience of the Inquisitor, for he pointed to the rack once or twice, then as significantly pointed to me.

Like a flash the meaning of the gesture came home to me. I was to be tortured in order to wring a confession from my father. For him the rack had little terrors; his indomitable courage had carried him through the ordeal beforetimes; but the diabolical design of striking at him through me was more than he could bear.

Stepping backwards a pace he hissed in my ear, "Hold the door if you can, Ralph."

Before I could comprehend the meaning of his words the soldiers seized him by the shoulders.

'Twas their last act upon this earth, for, with a sudden impetuous heave, my father shook himself clear. His huge, powerful hands gripped each of the astonished pikemen by the throat, their heads crashed together with tremendous force, and without so much as a groan they sank lifeless to the ground.

'Twas done in the twinkling of an eye. Then, with a bound, my father sprang towards the rack, wrenched one of the levers from its socket, and threw himself upon the four "familiars."

They were not lacking in courage and strength, and, like dogs baiting a bear, they set upon my parent.

Over and over they rolled, my father's head and shoulders momentarily appearing out of the tangle of struggling black forms, while I stood by, hardly knowing what I was to do, though my father's injunction rang in my ears.

As the fierce struggle continued, I saw the torturer quit his place by the brazier and, with a pair of glowing tongs in his hand, creep stealthily to aid his fellows.

Now was my opportunity to be up and doing. Drawing the sword of one of the dead pikemen, I struck so shrewd a blow that the dog died without even a cry; then, turning my attention to the struggling throng on the stone floor, I sent two of the "familiars" to their last account.

Well-nigh breathless, my father arose and loosened his grip from the windpipe of another. The fourth lay with his back broken, groaning horribly.

"The door!" shouted my father.

I was barely in time. Like a sly fox one of the scriveners had darted under the dais, crept round the farthermost wall, and made a rush for the door. Once without, the alarm would have been raised; but e'en as he fumbled with the bolts my blade pierced his shoulder-blades and he fell.

Then ensued a terrible pause. Dropping the handspike, my father stooped and took possession of the second pikeman's sword. Then he waited to regain his breath, his eyes fixed upon the three Inquisitors, who sat almost transfixed with terror upon the dais. They read in his eyes the denial of mercy that they had so often decreed.

As he advanced, the Chief Inquisitor started to his feet, imploring, raving, and shouting for the help that was not to be forthcoming, for the well-nigh sound-proof room now served another purpose.

But I had my work cut out. The remaining scrivener, taking his courage in his hand, seized a pike and ran at me with the fury of despair, as I stood before the door.

I guarded the savage pike-thrust only too well, for the keen blade sank deep into the ash, and with a sudden wrench I found my weapon torn from my grasp.

The next instant we were at hand grips, the scrivener heavy and stout, I tall, lithe, and somewhat weakened by the meagre fare. Thus we were pretty evenly matched, and over and over we rolled, I trying to grasp his flabby throat, while he strove to thrust his pointed ink-horn into my eyes.

Thus we grappled for, I should think, a full five minutes, till I felt his breath come in laboured gasps. Then, with all my force, I smote him on the temple with my clenched fist, and, kneeling upon his body, I pressed his throat till he ceased to breathe. 'Twas a fearful thing to do, but it was a question of life against life.

I rose to my feet and looked around. Two of the Inquisitors had given up the ghost, but the chief was backing slowly round the chamber, my father, looking like a veritable avenging fury, thrusting savagely with his blade, yet forbearing to strike home.

The doomed man was shrieking like a cornered rat, all to no purpose, while my father, uttering maledictions in English and Spanish, prolonged the torture that served as the Inquisitor's just retribution. At length a quick, merciful thrust completed the ghastly business, and my father spurned the body with his foot.

"Thanks be to Him who has given us the victory!" he exclaimed; then with the same breath he added, "We're in grievous peril still, Ralph. We must needs think what had best be done."

Chapter XIII.

The Escape.

AS my father spoke, the gravity of our position came home to both of us. Here we were, penned up in the torture-chamber in the innermost recesses of the castle, likely at any moment to be surprised by the garrison or some of the officers of the Inquisition, while every exit was strongly guarded with armed troops.

Even should we escape from the precincts of the fortress we knew not whither to flee. The very name of the town wherein we were was unknown to us.

For the time being we were safe. We could hold our own 'gainst tremendous odds in the strongly-walled chamber, but ere long hunger would compel us to succumb. Therefore it was useless to remain inactive: we must take steps to find a way out. But how?

"Roy, my son," exclaimed my father, "I have it. 'Tis hazardous, but there are chances in our favour. We will don the garments of these slain dogs, and take upon us the role of officers of the Inquisition. 'Tis now night, which is also in our favour."

"And whither? To the mountains?" was my question.

"Nay, lad, the sea--ever the sea. Thereon lies our salvation. Now, quickly."

Without more ado we stripped the bodies of two of the slain members of the Holy Office, girded a sword and dagger apiece beneath the cloaks, and enveloped our heads with the hideous cowls and masks.

"This will not serve," commented my father, as we surveyed each other. "Is it meet that two officers should thread dark passages without a link-bearer? Cast off your attire, Roy, and take this garb. You must be one of the hooded varlets, and bear a torch to light the way."

In a few moments I was dressed in the garb of a "familiar." We then prepared to cover our retreat, for should any one without gain easy entrance, the alarm would be raised ere we could obtain a fair start.

Accordingly we dragged the rack across the floor and placed it at a pike's length from the door. This required great effort, for the massive frame could only be moved inch by inch. But 'twas done at last. We then unbolted and partly opened the door, resting the butt ends of the pikes 'gainst the lowermost portion of the rack and their heads 'gainst the door, so that when 'twas shut the pikes would fall to the ground, forming a wedge that would defy the efforts of half a dozen strong men.

Then, having taken a torch, we sallied out, walking with measured tread, and my father inclined his head over a breviary. Yet I wot we both kept one hand upon the hilts of our daggers, ready to strike a swift blow should occasion arise.

Unseen we traversed the lowermost passage, ascended the spiral stair, and gained the upper corridor. At the end I knew was the low doorway communicating with the courtyard, and the door itself would be closely locked and bolted.

But as we approached, in fear lest our progress should be hindered, a dark form glided from a recess that had escaped my notice when I was brought hither, and a hooded and cloaked servant threw open the door with obsequious mien.

My father bestowed upon him a blessing--though in his mind I doubt not that he would rather have given the dog a dagger-thrust--and the next moment we were under the light of the stars, breathing in the pure air that had for so many long days been denied us.

But the most difficult part was yet to come. We were clear of the prison itself, with its pitiless and cruel guardians, but now we must reckon with the soldiers at the postern and the two barbicans. Should they demand a password we should be undone.

'Twas folly to hesitate. With outward boldness, though I felt my heart beating rapidly, I led the way, holding the torch well above my head, while my father followed three paces in the rear, still ostentatiously engaged with his breviary.

Now we were within a score paces of the postern, the guards were preparing to receive us, when a hooded figure advanced and spoke to my father with much the same tone of servility as his fellow had done.

With admirable composure my parent replied, imitating the voice of the Chief Inquisitor to perfection, while I walked slowly backwards till I stood behind him, so that the flicker of the torch threw his hooded and masked face into shadow.

After a short conversation my father turned, and, with the "familiar" slightly behind him, walked in a totally different direction to that leading to the postern. Whither the pair were going I had not the slightest idea, whereas, in my capacity of link-bearer, I ought to have preceded them. Neither dare my father give me directions or any explanation of the conversation; so, helplessly, I trailed behind the quasi-Inquisitor and his subordinate.

Our conductor came to a halt before an arch, within which was apparently a stone wall, though screened from observation from the courtyard by two flying buttresses connected with a trellis fence of iron, over which the roses grew in profusion.

What he did I could not see, but a large portion of the masonry swung round on a pivot, easily and noiselessly, disclosing a yawning cavity.

While the man was thus engaged my father found an opportunity to bid me enter fearlessly. This I did, and found myself on the topmost of a short flight of steps. I descended, my sire following. The next instant we were alone.

"Providence is with us," quoth he. "This is the secret passage to the Chapel of San Thomé, and is used by the principals of this accursed place. Yon rogue, who has served us so well, told me that the second drawbridge was raised, owing to some mishap."

"Then how can we gain our way from the chapel?"

"Methinks 'tis easier to escape from a chapel than from a castle, my son. Courage! Did I not say that 'twould end well for us?"

With that we relapsed into silence, walking swiftly through the subterranean passage, our footsteps echoing and re-echoing along the invisible tunnel; every moment was precious.

We must have traversed a good four hundred paces when our passage was barred by a door as strongly constructed as those in the castle.

Cautiously and carefully we examined the door, but no sign of a lock or bolt was visible on the side on which we stood. It seemed as if we were fairly trapped. At any moment our flight might be discovered and the shouts of our pursuers fall upon our ears. Moreover, the torch was rapidly burning out, and in a few minutes we should be in utter darkness.

"Stand to your dagger," said my father. "We must take the hazard," and as he spoke he knocked loudly and peremptorily upon the oaken door.

With mingled feelings of doubt and hope we heard the bolts being shot back; the door was flung open, and we found ourselves in the dimly-lighted chapel of St. Thomé.

A lay-brother who had opened for us bent low in deep abasement, while my father, still retaining his marvellous presence of mind, bestowed a benediction upon him.

Then louting to the altar as he passed--though I knew 'twas greatly against the grain to do so--he made instinctively towards a similar portal in the northern wall of the building.

Once more we found ourselves in the open air. We were evidently in a priory garden. In the closely-cut turf--well kept in spite of the hot climate--cypress and olive trees were planted, while against one of the walls a huge vine extended its branches.

Even in our flight we paused to taste of the grapes, and never did fruit seem sweeter to our parched throats after our strain of mind and body, following months of miserable captivity. As we ate we conferred as to the best course to pursue, or, rather, my father deliberated and gave his opinion, and I unhesitatingly accepted it.

"We must not risk passing through the dormitories or other domestic buildings," said he. "We dare not tempt fate too much. Methinks beyond yon wall we'll find a street or lane."

So saying, he climbed a tree growing close to the vine-covered wall, and clambering along one of its branches, allowed his weight to bend it till he could with ease drop upon the wide coping of the stonework.

"'Twas as I said," he whispered. "Haste, follow."

'Twas soon done, and we found ourselves in a narrow lane with houses of a superior kind facing the long wall we had just scaled.

I had extinguished and dropped the torch ere making the climb, so keeping well in the deep shadows, we glided rapidly along the narrow streets in the direction we supposed the harbour to lie.

Once or twice we lay close, as a half-drunken soldier or a belated townsman passed, but without interruption we came to an alley, at the end of which we could just distinguish the starlit sea.

"Oh for a vessel of sorts, be it but a cock-boat!" muttered my father, as we reached the brink of a little quay littered with nets and other gear pertaining to the fisherman's craft.

Grinding their sides against the piles were several small boats, none of which contained oars, masts, or sails; but farther out were moored some ten or fifteen larger craft, evidently sea-going fishing-boats, some of which had their masts shipped, while others had them lying across their broad transoms.

Seizing a painter, my father tried it; then swung himself nimbly and softly into one of the little boats, steadying her alongside while I joined him.

Then bidding me steer for the nearest craft at anchor, he took hold of one of the bottom boards and paddled rapidly, grumbling softly under his breath at the phosphorescent swirl that followed each stroke of his unwieldy paddle.

Following his instructions, I steered, but on approaching the nearest vessel my eye caught the outlines of a craft that seemed familiar to me. I looked again, hoping against hope; but there was no mistaking the vessel, though her rig had been altered. 'Twas the _Damsel of Lyme_!

Eagerly I whispered the news of my discovery. My father ceased paddling, and shaded his eyes as he took stock of the pinnace.

"She is much of a handful," he whispered dubiously.

"But I know her well. She is one of the swiftest boats that ever sailed upon the sea," I added.

"If that be so," he replied, "lay us alongside as softly as you can."

Within another minute I was treading the familiar deck. My father dropped silently into the after-cabin and also explored the fo'c'sle to make sure that no one was aboard. Having satisfied himself on that point, he turned the cock-boat adrift and proceeded to set sail.

In place of the huge spread of square sails two long, unwieldy yards lay athwart her deck, their halyards still bent. Her new owners had converted her rig into that of a felucca, possibly intending to use her on the Mediterranean, since that form of sail is somewhat rare on the north-west coasts of Spain and Portugal. Whether her speed would be thus affected we knew not.

Swiftly, yet deliberately, we set to work to make sail. I was sent aloft with a leather bucket half full of water, with instructions to thoroughly douse the blocks lest the squeaking of the tackle would betray us. Then slowly but surely the foreyard was hoisted, the cable cut, and with scarce a ripple the pinnace heeled and glided towards the fort-guarded entrance to the harbour.

It must have been betwixt midnight and the early hours of the morning that we set sail. Behind us lay the dark outlines of the town, with ne'er a light visible, backed by the dark, tree-clad hills. Not a sound was to be heard save the howl of a dog. Otherwise 'twas like a city of the dead.

But ahead lanterns twinkled on the buttresses of the two castles, showing that their garrisons kept watch and ward. Even with her dark brown sails and sombre hull the _Damsel of Lyme_ would run great risk of discovery as she ran the gauntlet.

My father stood at the tiller, his feet placed wide apart and his hands lightly grasping the curved wood. His old facility had come back to him, and already he had gained the feel of the vessel's helm, while he critically watched the huge sail, ready to order me