<h3> CHAPTER XXVIII </h3>
<p>I never saw my Señorita again. Early next morning
the <i>Pasha's</i> anchors were hove up, and Mr. Oxenham
went aboard to work her out through the tortuous
channels by which she had entered more than six
months ago.</p>
<p>It took all one day and part of the next to get the
ship free, and Mr. Oxenham did not quit her till she
was quite clear of the shoals. What passed between
him and my Señorita then I cannot say. Whether they
found means whereby afterwards letters went between
them I do not know, but when years after news of his
end came I could not but think it might have been so;
and, in spite of seeming contradictions in the varying
reports that reached us, I have often wondered whether
my Señorita were not the same fair lady for whose
sweet sake, less than three years after, when he had
won undying honour by having sailed the South Sea
first of all Englishmen, he madly did that whereby he
not only lost all the wealth he had taken there, but also
his trusty company and his fair name, ay, and gave up
his wasted life beside as a pirate on a Spanish gallows
at Lima. But let that pass. I bear him no ill-will,
and trust he rests in peace, as, for all his sins, his
courageous spirit well deserves.</p>
<p>For such a spirit indeed he had, and, next to the
general, our whole company had conceived greater hope
in him than in any other. So that, when a few days
after the release of the prisoners we came with the
frigate and the pinnaces to the Catenas, he was chosen
to lead the attempt to recover the French captain and
the buried treasure. For in spite of all Frank could
say we would not suffer him to go, saying his life was
too precious to us now to be risked on so dangerous a
service, seeing he was the only man on whom we could
count to carry us back to England.</p>
<p>Mr. Oxenham undertook the desperate service with
the same light heart wherewith he always faced the
greatest perils, but was not rewarded according to his
courage. For, on coming to the Rio Francisco, he found
in most forlorn condition one of the men who had stayed
behind with Monsieur Tetú. From him he had news
that the brave captain had been taken half an hour
after our departure, and his fellow a little later, because
he would not cast away his treasure, and so could not
run fast enough to escape.</p>
<p>Moreover he told us that some two thousand Spaniards
and negroes had been digging and ranting up the
ground for the space of a mile, every way about the
place where they must have learned from the prisoners
that our treasure was buried. This Mr. Oxenham
found to be true; for, notwithstanding the report, he
still would go and see for himself, and was rewarded by
the discovery of thirteen silver bars and some quoits of
gold, which the Spaniards had not been able to find.</p>
<p>At last, then, our voyage was indeed made, and all
we wanted for our return homewards was another good
stout frigate; and to this end the general resolved to
beat the same covert we had always found so full of
game—to wit, the coast beyond Carthagena, about the
mouth of the Rio Grande.</p>
<p>All were very merry over the near hope of our return,
except, I think, myself. As for me, I could not but
brood over what I had lost or escaped from, I knew not
which to call it. I fear I was but a very doleful
companion, and Harry, being now in great spirits with all
the world, would not let me rest.</p>
<p>'So your Señorita would not stay with you?' he said,
with a twinkle in his eye that much belied his pretended
seriousness.</p>
<p>'I did not ask her,' I answered.</p>
<p>'Not ask her!' said he, 'and wherefore not, in a
devil's name? Why, lad, you were over ears in love
with her.'</p>
<p>'You are merry,' said I, a little testily I think, for it
angered me that both he and she should say this, while
I was for ever telling myself I could not be so foolish.
'I could as soon have loved one of those glistening
butterfly-birds that are all sparkle and humming, and
nothing of them beside.'</p>
<p>'Well, what of that?' said he. 'Were I Pythagorean,
I could find no better case for a true woman's soul than
one of those same dainty, merry, little humming birds,
that in these past months have so often beguiled us
when there was little else to make us forget our
troubles.'</p>
<p>'True,' I answered. 'Such qualities will make a
plaything, but never a wife.'</p>
<p>'Well, I know not,' he said; 'but I think a wife is
mostly what a husband makes her, and doubt if a man
may not make as good a one out of a plaything as
anything else.'</p>
<p>He should have known, yet I could not think him
right, nor do I now. I had no heart to pursue such
talk then, so when he continued to rally me I hastily
told him the truth.</p>
<p>'Forgive me,' he said, growing serious directly, and
putting his hand on my shoulder, 'if you can forgive
such a brute-beast as I am to torment you thus. What
a curst unbroken tongue is mine! You would have kept
her marriage from me to shield her fame. Truly, lad,
in comparison to you, I deserve no woman's love.'</p>
<p>So he said, not knowing himself, for never was
woman's love better bestowed than on him, yet he
knew it not, and I verily believe, felt that he never
could do enough for his wife to repay her generosity in
marrying him. She thought no less, and often told me
so. What wonder that their lives were happy!</p>
<p>We fell in with our French consort again soon after
this, and they bore us company till they heard we were
going past Carthagena, but this they would not venture
with us, since the whole Plate Fleet lay there with its
well-armed wafters ready for sea.</p>
<p>So we parted company once more at St. Bernardo,
and then Frank stood in towards the city, and ran past
with a large wind hard by the harbour's mouth, in sight
of the whole fleet. Not one dared stir out after us,
though we braved them with our music, and the Cross
of St. George at our top, and all our silken streamers
and ancients floating down to the water defiantly.
Perhaps it was a bit of foolish bravado, but Frank laughed
and rubbed his hands, and said it was worth another
<i>recua</i> to have done it, which the whole company agreed,
being half mad to think how we had succeeded in our
wild adventure in despite of the whole power of the
Indies.</p>
<p>The same night we fell in with a frigate of twenty-five
tons, well laden with victuals, coming out of the
river. We told the crew of our necessity, and used
other persuasions to such good effect that at last they
were content to go ashore, and leave their ship in our
hands. Whereupon we returned to the Cabeças, and
there, having rested seven days to careen our ships and
prepare them for the voyage home, we bade farewell to
our trusty Cimaroons, greatly contenting them with the
iron-work of the pinnaces, which we broke up. To
Pedro Frank presented a very goodly scimitar, which
poor Monsieur Tetú had given him in return for his
hospitalities at their first meeting. So greatly did the
Cimaroon chief value this toy that he would not be
content till Frank had accepted four great wedges of
gold from his particular store.</p>
<p>It was a private gift to our general, and I think it
noteworthy, as showing his just dealings with his
mariners and venturers, that he would not keep those
wedges, but cast them into the common store.</p>
<p>'Had not the venturers set me forth,' said he, 'and
had not you, my lads, so truly borne your parts, I should
never have had this present; wherefore I hold you should
all enjoy the proportion of your benefits, whatsoever
they be.'</p>
<p>So we took our leave of the Spanish Main, and,
bearing room for Cape Antonio, passed to Havana,
where we took a bark, the last of all our captures, which
had been many, indeed, both for numbers and humanity
in dealing with them, past anything that had been seen
before. For at that time there were above two hundred
frigates belonging to the cities of the Spanish Main and
the Islands, ranging from ten to one hundred and
twenty tons. Most of these we dealt with during our
stay, and some of them twice and thrice, yet of all the
crews we captured we hurt not a single man, save in
the heat of fight, nor did we burn or sink one ship save
in act of war, nor keep any save for our bare necessity.
And so it was that Frank won himself a name of terror
along the whole Spanish Main, and therewith a reputation
for kindliness and mercy, both of which were
never forgotten, and stood him in good stead many a
time in after years.</p>
<p>He protested that God manifestly blessed him for the
just chastisement, tempered with mercy, which he had
inflicted on the idolaters; for that He so bountifully
supplied us with rain for our necessities, and wind for
our speeding, that we had no cause to touch at
Newfoundland for our refreshing, but within twenty-three
days we passed from the Cape of Florida to the Isles
of Scilly, and on Sunday morning, the 9th day of
August 1573, swaggered bravely into Plymouth harbour,
amidst the thunder of our great pieces, the braying of
our trumpets, and the gay fluttering of all our flags
and streamers and ancients.</p>
<p>It was a sight to make a man forget all his sorrows,
to see the Hoe quickly brighten like a flower-bed with
the Sunday clothes of the godly people of Plymouth,
and yet not godly enough to stay with the preacher
when they knew whose salutations were disturbing their
prayers. So with one accord they left the poor man,
and hurried off to hear the sermon Frank was preaching
with his ordnance and his music.</p>
<p>'Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into
Heaven?' That was his text, and so well he expounded it
with a sight of our ballast to all who came aboard, that
I think there was hardly one that day who did not
vow he would no longer stand still disputing and
railing against Antichrist, but go forth and win gold
for God out of the idolaters' treasure-house.</p>
<p>Wild were the rejoicings in Plymouth, and there was
no one to check them. The Queen's grace was in no
mood just then to hide our achievement under a bushel.
Nay, rather she liked nothing better than to flaunt it in
Philip's eyes, to show him she had a power he little
dreamed of to answer the late-discovered felonious
practices of Spain against her glorious crown and life.</p>
<p>Yet I tarried not longer than our business demanded,
for Harry could not rest till he was at Ashtead again,
nor would he depart thither without me. In vain I
urged him to go alone and let me follow later, after he
had seen his wife and all was smooth again.</p>
<p>'No, lad,' said he; 'we fled together, let us return
together. It was one cause drove us forth. That is
ended and forgotten. If I can go back, it is because
you also may go back. Therefore one must not go
without the other.'</p>
<p>So we rode together, Harry, the Sergeant, and I, and
all the way to London it was for us a triumphal
procession. The news of Frank's daring exploit had spread
from town to town before us. The people were half
wild at the tidings, and came gaping to see us with
their own eyes, and hear from our own lips the truth of
the tale that seemed too glorious to believe; to hear how
Englishmen at last had trod that inviolate soil which
seemed to give a magic and resistless power to Spain,
their dreaded enemy, and had broken its mysterious
spell for ever, and how we had so plenteously enriched
ourselves out of their very heart-wells in despite of all
their boasted power.</p>
<p>It seemed a strange and merry thing to them. They
could only laugh as though it were some rude jest we
had put on the Spaniards, and make merry over Philip's
and Alva's wry faces to think of a poor English captain
quietly plucking their beards with one hand, and
cutting their purses with the other. That looming
shadow in the South which yesterday was a monster of
terror, to-day was only a bogie to frighten babies withal.
So they strutted about, boasting that though the King of
Spain might set all the silly geese over the sea in a flutter
with his <i>braggadocio</i>, yet one quacking of an English
drake was enough to set him shivering on his throne.</p>
<p>I trust we were more modest than they. Yet in
those young days of England's growing strength I cannot
blame her if she laughed and crowed like a lusty baby
over each new step he learns to take.</p>
<p>Our triumphal progress should have put us in good
heart; yet, as we approached our journey's end, a weight
seemed to settle on us both. As we rode from Gravesend
each well-known object served to recall the misery
of the day we saw them last; and for the first time, I
think, Harry began to doubt whether it would be so
easy to bring things back to the old track again.</p>
<p>He had sent word forward that he was coming, but
no more, not knowing what to write. Thus we could
not tell how things stood at Ashtead, or even whether
Mrs. Waldyve were there at all.</p>
<p>It was afternoon before we reached Rochester, and
we stayed at the 'Crown' to dine, but did scant justice
to the host's provision. Harry grew only more
melancholy when we were alone.</p>
<p>'Would I could tell if she would forgive me!' he said
at last. 'How can I hope for it, who left her so basely
in the midst of all her grief? Tell me again, Jasper, all
you saw when you went back to Ashtead after that sad day.'</p>
<p>So I told my tale again, and dwelt on those words
she sang, giving him to hope for the best.</p>
<p>'Yet I think I will tarry till to-morrow,' he said.
'It is late; I am weary. It will be too sudden for
her at so late an hour. I will tarry, and send her
word I am waiting here for her to bid me come. Maybe
she is not there, and maybe grief has killed her.'</p>
<p>He sank his voice very low as he uttered this new
fear, and before I could tell what to answer him—for,
God knows, I too had little heart for this meeting—the
Sergeant came in and said the horses were ready. Harry
looked at me, but I could give him no help. My shame
was still quick within me, and my only desire was to
put off the end, which I could not foresee, but only
fear.</p>
<p>'Sergeant,' said Harry at last, desperately, 'we think
it too late to go on. We will lie here to-night, and come
to Ashtead betimes to-morrow.'</p>
<p>'Cry you mercy, sir,' said the Sergeant, in a rebellious
burst. 'If you can be within two hours' ride of that
peerless lady and not go to her, it is more than I have
power or discipline for. So I crave leave to ride on
alone with all speed.'</p>
<p>'But how know you we are within two hours' ride of
her?' said Harry weakly, under the Sergeant's
rebuking glance.</p>
<p>'Save your worship,' cried the Sergeant, 'is that what
ails you? Then take it from me, you can ride thither
without fear of not finding her, for my good friends the
drawers tell me she has abode at home ever since your
departing, though it is true that none have seen her
abroad of late.'</p>
<p>And with that the Sergeant brought us our rapiers
and cloaks, and for very shame we were bound to take
them and beat an honourable retreat along the line
which, by accident or design, he had left open for us.</p>
<p>So, without more ado, we rode out through the throng
which had assembled to greet us when they heard we
had come. The good people followed us up the street to
the gates, and then fell to cheering us for two heroes, little
thinking what sorry hearts those same heroes carried.
So they cheered us, and Drake, and the Queen, as we
rode out across the low land by the river, nor ceased till
we began to climb the downs.</p>
<p>The Medway lay glistening in its mazy channels
below us as we topped the hill. Rainham church-tower
rose dimly before us; on either hand the turf swept
downward from the road, broken by clumps of trees in
every hollow where they could find shelter from the
wind. These and a score of other familiar landmarks
seemed to bring the past very near, and only increased
my fear that the short time we had been away could not
avail to heal the fearful wound I had made.</p>
<p>Gladly would I have turned off on the road which led
to Longdene, as I had that first day I had seen Harry's
wife, but I was resolved to go on to the end with him,
not knowing how great his need might soon be of a
comforter; for his doubts had infected me with a
heart-sickness as sore as his own.</p>
<p>The bright picture of her as she was that day faded
away as the gables and turrets of Ashtead came in sight,
and I gave way to wondering what she looked like now,
and of what she thought within those dim walls. And
that wondering ceased as we rode under the gateway
and dismounted. I could only then think of my brother.
He was deadly pale, and clutched at my arm as he trod
the steps, and stopped like one about to faint.</p>
<p>'Would she had come out to meet us,' he murmured,
'when she heard our horses in the court. She must
have heard them.'</p>
<p>I knew not what to say, but pressed his hand and
put my arm through his to steady him up the steps.
He made a great effort as he reached the top and threw
open the door of the hall.</p>
<p>There she stood in the lurid torch-light by the great
hearth, as though just risen from her seat. She was
pale and wild-eyed, and stood irresolute, gazing her
heart out at him, with her white hands spread out a
little in front of her as though the last spark of hope
were dying within her, and she hardly dared to plead.
Ah me! it was a picture of long-endured misery as I
pray God I may never see again, and, still less, cause.</p>
<p>Harry stood, it seemed so long, waiting for some sign
from her, but she stood like a statue with no power to
move. Then he advanced slowly towards her, and I
followed into the hall.</p>
<p>I had hardly stepped within when a sudden light
came into her eyes as she caught mine. She had seen
me then for the first time. She had seen me, and, God
be praised, knew by my being there that all must be
forgiven.</p>
<p>With a little glad cry she sprang forward, and in a
moment those two I loved so well, and had wronged
so deeply, were locked lip to lip in each other's
arms.</p>
<p>I heard a stifled sob behind me, and turned to see
the tears rolling down the Sergeant's bronzed face.
Then we went forth that those two might be alone;
but very soon they came and called me back, and fed
me with such loving words as I could not have looked
for had I been their greatest benefactor and not their
curse.</p>
<p>Their most gentle dealing with me quite unmanned
me, so that I easily was persuaded to lie at Ashtead
that night, but on the morrow I thought it best to go.</p>
<p>Very dim and lonely was my library that night.
My consuming grief was dead, drowned in their happiness
and gentle usage of me. Yet it was very lonely.
I tried to read, but each book I sought availed less to
fasten my thoughts. So I sat musing on all that had
befallen me those last months, and trying not to think
how empty and sad my great chair looked without the
sweet burden which, as it were, I had once seen
nestling there.</p>
<p>That fancy grew dim as the months wore on, and I
was ever at Ashtead as of old playing with little Fulke,
or hunting with Harry, or talking over old times with
Sergeant Culverin, who quickly settled down as Harry's
right-hand on his estate, and so continued till his honest
spirit passed away. But with Mrs. Waldyve I read
no more then, nor till years after, when, through my
thrice-blessed friendship with Signor Bruno, a
deep-set faith came to comfort my ripening years and
hers.</p>
<p>Indeed it was little I read at all, save in books of
travel and cosmography. Study seemed a very poor
and dry food to me at that time, the more so as there
was no longer any one to urge me to it. Mr. Cartwright's
strife was now nothing but a din of unmeaning
words in my ears. Good Mr. Follet, my only other
scholar friend, was dead, and his cherished 'Apology'
still-born; for though he bequeathed the manuscript to
me to set forth, I found its original obscurity and
tangled learning (in so far as it was legible) so
over-laid and involved and interlined with added matter
from the four quarters of earthly and unearthly wisdom
as to be past human understanding.</p>
<p>Each day then I saw more clearly that all was
changed with me, and grew to know that thenceforth,
till age should bring me peace and studious quiet, my
content could only be found at Frank Drake's side, or
in such great and stirring work as his.</p>
<p>And so it was, and not without good reward either,
both in honour and riches. Yet there was nothing
which my unworthy service earned of Her Majesty's
grace and bounty that I valued higher than the loving
welcome which was so plentifully bestowed on me at
Ashtead each time I came home.</p>
<p><br/><br/></p>
<p class="t3">
THE END</p>
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