The Quest Of The 'Golden Hope' Part 29

"While awaiting this opportunity I chanced one day to be taking the air along the Rochester road, when I heard the sound of a horse galloping behind me. I turned, and saw a mettlesome nag bolting down the highway, while, clinging desperately to the animal's mane, was a girl of about my own age."

"As you know, Clifford, I was always used to horses, so as the brute rushed by I caught at the dangling bridle. The nag carried me some distance, and just as I had mastered him he trod on my foot. The pain was intense, and I was barely conscious of seeing the girl slip from the saddle ere I swooned."

"When I recovered my senses I found myself in a strange bed, with a motherly lady watching me."

"She was Mistress Farndale, wife of a wealthy landowner, and it was her daughter Winifred whose horse I had helped to stop. All the members of the family were kind to me beyond measure, and, hearing my story, proposed that I should stay as a companion to Winifred till an opportunity occurred for me to take s.h.i.+p. And, strange to say, I felt perfectly contented and happy, actually hoping that that opportunity was yet a long way off."

"At length Master Farndale, for having spoken too openly in favour of Archbishop Sancroft, was threatened with arrest; so, having disposed of most of his property, he took s.h.i.+p for Virginia, having previously made arrangements for his family to follow directly he had prepared a suitable home for them."

"Thus I was able to carry out my original intentions, without having to undergo the grief of parting from my newly found friends, when we took pa.s.sage on the _Phoenix_. There were Mistress Farndale, Rupert and Gerald, her sons; and Winifred and myself, together with a maid."

"I need not relate what happened on our unfortunate voyage, for you already know of it; but when we were being taken on board this s.h.i.+p from the boat Winifred fell into the sea, and someone rescued her----"

"Lucky lad! Lucky lad!" exclaimed Captain Jeremy, bringing his open hand down heavily on my back, to my great confusion. Then, as Constance was at a loss to understand this sudden outburst, he explained: "You see, Mistress Constance, 'twas your brother who jumped after her. Sink me! 'twas a plucky action, for he was like to have had his head crushed like an eggsh.e.l.l by the s.h.i.+p's side. But I must away, for 'tis about time we made a landfall." So saying, he hurried on to the p.o.o.p, leaving us to continue our conversation.

"I, too, have news for you," said I. "Constance, we are now rich, for the _Madre_ treasure has been found. It is on board this very s.h.i.+p."

"How much is it worth?" she asked, with true feminine curiosity.

"Nay, I cannot say to a certainty, yet 'tis enough for us to be for ever free from monetary difficulties."

Then I related all the princ.i.p.al incidents of our voyage, not omitting the terrible fate of my father's murderer, till our conversation was interrupted by the welcome cry of "Land--ho!"

From the p.o.o.p I gazed once more upon the sh.o.r.es of Old England, after an absence of three years, for on our larboard bow I could discern the dark, lofty outlines of the Lizard, the southernmost headland of our isle.

The _Golden Hope_ was now bowling along under easy canvas at a good six knots, and ere night the dreaded Eddystone, rearing its ugly reef above the breakers, was well abeam, and the rugged Devon coast away on our larboard bow. Should this breeze continue, to-morrow's eve would find us safe in Poole Harbour.

Just before sunset most of the rescued pa.s.sengers, having recovered from their harrowing experience, came on deck, and Constance immediately gave me an introduction to Mistress Farndale and her daughter.

Presently we were joined by Rupert and Gerald Farndale, whose acquaintance I had made earlier in the day; and together we formed quite a happy party, talking under the break of the p.o.o.p deck until it was quite dark.

Then the ladies retired, while I, lying in a hammock slung under the crowded fo'c'sle, dreamed of Constance and Winifred, till I was awakened by the violent ringing of the s.h.i.+p's bell and the hoa.r.s.e order, "Put your helm up, or we'll be run down!"

CHAPTER x.x.xIII

Safe in Port

'Twas a strange sight that met my eyes as I rushed on deck and gained the fo'c'sle.

The wind had fallen light, and in the cold, raw gloom of that November morning I could see ahead and on both sides of us a mult.i.tude of great wars.h.i.+ps.

They were sailing in close order, under all plain sail, and had just gone about on the starboard tack, for their crews were still engaged with the halyards and braces, in obedience to orders shouted in a foreign tongue.

This manoeuvre had thrown us fairly across their line, so that only by putting our helm hard up were we able to avoid being run down by a huge two-decker.

In the comparatively small limit of my vision, for the weather was thick, I counted over forty sail, though, judging by the sounds, there must have been twice that number hidden in the mist.

We sc.r.a.ped past the two-decker at barely ten yards' distance. She was high-sided, and painted with one broad yellow and two narrow brown stripes; while through her green-lined ports the muzzles of some thirty-two bra.s.s guns flashed dully in the moist atmosphere.

Her decks were crowded with men, for in addition to her crew there were about a hundred phlegmatic-looking soldiers, in blue-and-yellow uniforms. On her p.o.o.p stood a burly great-coated officer, who raised his speaking-trumpet with the evident intention of hailing us; but apparently he thought better of it, and in almost perfect silence, save for the hiss of the water at her cut.w.a.ter and the straining and creaking of her tackle, the s.h.i.+p glided past. Then, as she displayed her lofty stern, with its wreath of decorative giltwork, I read the name _Maese_.

For a full half-hour we were hard put to it to avoid being run down by the s.h.i.+ps of the mighty fleet, which, we learned from the crew of the _Phoenix_, was known to have been lying at Helvoetsluys, ready to carry the Prince of Orange to England to wrest the crown from his incapable father-in-law, King James.

"Where are they bound for, being so far down Channel?" asked the master gunner.

"Nay, I know not," replied Captain Jeremy. "But Heaven forfend that they land in the West. Enough English blood was wasted in the last rising, as many of us know."

"What chance hath the Prince, think you?" he continued, addressing the master of the _Phoenix_, who had also turned out to see the unwonted sight.

"A far better one than had the Duke of Monmouth," was the answer; "though, with all his faults, give me King James. I fought under him when he was Duke of York, and a braver seaman never trod deck."

"Ah! James Duke of York and James King of England are two very different personages, I trow," replied Captain Jeremy. "The best fighter is ever the worst statesman."

"After all," said the master of the _Phoenix_, "so long as there are English s.h.i.+ps at sea and plenty of work for us poor seamen, it matters not much who rules the roost. That's how the wind blows, say I."

"The wind draws ahead," observed Captain Jeremy; "that is the matter that concerns us chiefly. I doubt whether we'll see port today."

This was indeed the case, for the breeze, now provokingly light, had backed till it came from the east'ard, so that it meant a dead beat to windward. To men long absent from home this was especially galling, though in my case I found consolation in being in the company of Mistress Winifred, with whom I generally managed to have several hours pleasurable conversation.

Neither did we make Poole that day nor the next, for it fell a flat calm, after the manner of St. Martin's summer, so that for thirty-six hours we drifted with the tide within sight of the Dorset hills.

At length a steady southwesterly breeze sprang up, and, with barely a hogshead of biscuit and a gallon of water aboard, the _Golden Hope_ came in sight of Poole Harbour.

"What cheer--ho, Master Light!" exclaimed Captain Jeremy, as a weather-beaten pilot came over the side. "How fares it at home?"

"Precious little news," replied the pilot, "though they say that English beef will henceforth be flavoured with Orange."

"So?"

"Aye; they say the Dutchman hath landed at Torbay, and advanced on Exeter. In short, there are all sorts of rumours, yet I pay scant heed to them."

With the air of a man who, in the exercise of his duty, scorns to indulge in conversation, Master Light made his way aft, and under his guidance the _Golden Hope_ threaded the tortuous channel that leads to Poole Town.

"Is it your wish to berth alongside the quay?" demanded the pilot.

"Nay, rather I would anchor in the stream," replied Captain Jeremy, mindful of the precious nature of our cargo.

"Hands shorten sail!"

Slowly the _Golden Hope_, with ever-decreasing way, glided abreast of the town, and with the welcome order, "Let go", the anchor plunged into the muddy waters of Poole Harbour.

The voyage of the _Golden Hope_ was over.

The news of the success of the Prince of Orange was hailed with delight by the former crew of the _Neptune_. To them it meant that they were free to return to their homes in the marshes of Somerset, without fear of being again hauled before the justices and sentenced to a horrible existence in the unhealthy swamps of Barbados; and on this account we, too, felt glad at the unexpected solution of their difficulties.