By England's Aid; or, the Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604)

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XXII

  OLD FRIENDS

  The succession of blows that had been given to the power and commerceof Spain had immensely benefited the trade of England and Holland.France, devastated by civil war, had been in no position to takeadvantage of the falling off in Spanish commerce, and had indeedherself suffered enormously by the emigration of tens of thousandsof the most intelligent of her population owing to her persecutionof the Protestants. Her traders and manufacturers largely belongedto the new religion, and these had carried their industry and knowledgeto England and Holland. Thus the religious bigotry of the kings ofSpain and France had resulted in enormous loss to the trade andcommerce of those countries, and in corresponding advantage totheir Protestant rivals.

  Geoffrey Vickars and his partner reaped the full benefit of thechange, and the extensive acquaintance of the Spanish trader withmerchants in all the Mediterranean ports enabled him to turn alarge share of the new current of trade into the hands of Geoffreyand himself. The capital which he transferred from Spain to Englandwas very much larger than that employed by the majority of Englishmerchants, whose wealth had been small indeed in comparison tothat of the merchant princes of the great centres of trade suchas Antwerp, Amsterdam, Genoa, and Cadiz, and Geoffrey Vickars sooncame to be looked upon as one of the leading merchants in the cityof London.

  "There can be no doubt, Geoffrey," his brother said as he lay ona couch in the garden in the early days of his convalescence, andlooked at the river dotted with boats that flowed past it, "thefalling of that mast was a fortunate thing for you. One never cantell how things will turn out. It would have seemed as if, wereyou not drowned at once, your lot would have been either a life'swork in the Spanish galleys, or death in the dungeons of theInquisition. Instead of this, here you are a wealthy merchant inthe city, with a charming wife, and a father in law who is, althougha Spaniard, one of the kindest and best men I ever met. All thistime I, who was not knocked over by that mast, have been drillingrecruits, making long marches, and occasionally fighting battles,and am no richer now than the day when we started together as FrancisVere's pages. It is true I have received the honour of knighthood,and that of course I prize much; but I have only my captain's payto support my dignity, and as I hardly think Spain will continuethis useless struggle much longer, in which case our army inHolland will be speedily disbanded, the prospect before me is notaltogether an advantageous one."

  "You must marry an heiress, Lionel," Geoffrey laughed. "Surely SirLionel Vickars, one of the heroes of Nieuport, and many anotherfield, should be able to win the heart of some fair English damsel,with broad acres as her dower. But seriously, Lionel," he went on,changing his tone, "if peace come, and with it lack of employment,the best thing for you will be to join me. Mendez is getting on inyears; and although he is working hard at present, in order, as hesays, to set everything going smoothly and well here, he is lookingforward to taking matters more easily, and to spending his timein tranquil pleasure with Dolores and her children. Therefore,whensoever it pleases you, there is a place for you here. We alwayscontemplated our lines running in the same groove, and I shouldbe glad that they should do so still. When the time comes we candiscuss what share you shall have of the business; but at any rateI can promise you that it shall be sufficient to make you a richman."

  "Thank you, with all my heart, Geoffrey. It may be that some day Iwill accept your offer, though I fear you will find me but a sorryassistant. It seems to me that after twelve years of campaigningI am little fitted for life as a city merchant."

  "I went through plenty of adventure for six years, Lionel, butmy father in law has from the first been well satisfied with mycapacity for business. You are not seven-and-twenty yet. You havehad enough rough campaigning to satisfy anyone, and should be gladnow of an easier and more sober method of life. Well, there is nooccasion to settle anything at present, and I can well understandthat you should prefer remaining in the army until the war comesto an end. When it does so, we can talk the matter over again; onlybe well assured that the offer will be always open to you, and thatI shall be glad indeed to have you with me."

  A few days after Lionel left him Geoffrey was passing alongChepe, when he stopped suddenly, stared hard at a gentleman whowas approaching him, and then rushed towards him with outstretchedhand.

  "My dear Gerald!" he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you."

  The gentleman started back with an expression of the profoundestastonishment.

  "Is it possible?" he cried. "Is it really Geoffrey Vickars?"

  "Myself, and no other, Gerald."

  "The saints be praised! Why, I have been thinking of you all theseyears as either dead or labouring at an oar in the Moorish galleys.By what good fortune did you escape? and how is it I find you here,looking for all the world like a merchant of the city?"

  "It is too long a story to tell now, Gerald. Where are you staying?"

  "I have lodgings at Westminster, being at present a suitor atcourt."

  "Is your wife with you?"

  "She is. I have left my four children at home in Ireland."

  "Then bring her to sup with me this evening. I have a wife tointroduce to yours, and as she is also a Spaniard it will doubtlessbe a pleasure to them both."

  "You astound me, Geoffrey. However, you shall tell me all about itthis evening, for be assured that we shall come. Inez has so oftentalked about you, and lamented the ill fortune that befell youowing to your ardour."

  "At six o'clock, then," Geoffrey said. "I generally dwell with myfather in law at Chelsea, but am just at present at home. My houseis in St. Mary Ave; anyone there will tell you which it is."

  That evening the two friends had a long talk together. Geoffreylearnt that Gerald Burke reached Italy without further adventure,and thence took ship to Bristol, and so crossed over to Ireland.On his petition, and solemn promise of good behaviour in future,he was pardoned and a small portion of his estate restored to him.He was now in London endeavouring to obtain a remission of theforfeiture of the rest.

  "I may be able to help you in that," Geoffrey said. "Sir FrancisVere is high in favour at court, and he will, at my prayer, I feelsure, use his influence in your favour when I tell him how youacted my friend on my landing in Spain from the Armada."

  Geoffrey then gave an account of his various adventures from thetime when he was struck down from the deck of the Barbary corsairuntil the present time.

  "How was it," he asked when he concluded, "that you did not writeto my parents, Gerald, on your return home? You knew where theylived."

  "I talked the matter over with Inez," Gerald replied, "and we agreedthat it was kinder to them to be silent. Of course they had mournedyou as killed in the fight with the Armada. A year had passed, andthe wound must have somewhat healed. Had I told them that you hadescaped death at that time, had been months with me in Spain, andhad, on your way home, been either killed by the Moors or were aprisoner in their galleys, it would have opened the wound afresh,and caused them renewed pain and sorrow."

  "No doubt you were right, Gerald, and that it was, as you say, thekindest thing to leave them in ignorance of my fate."

  Upon the next visit Sir Francis Vere paid to England, Geoffrey spoketo him with regard to Gerald Burke's affairs. Sir Francis took thematter up warmly, and his influence sufficed in a very short timeto obtain an order for the restoration to Gerald of all his estates.Inez and Dolores became as fast friends as were their husbands; andwhen the Burkes came to England Geoffrey's house was their home.

  The meeting with Gerald was followed by a still greater surprise,for not many days after, when Geoffrey was sitting with his wifeand Don Mendez under the shade of a broad cypress in the garden ofthe merchant's house at Chelsea, they saw a servant coming acrosstowards them, followed by a man in seafaring attire.

  "Here is a person who would speak to you, Master Vickars," theservant said. "I told him it was not your custom to see any here,and that if he had aught to say he should call at your house in St.Mary Ave; b
ut he said that he had but just arrived from Hedingham,and that your honour would excuse his intrusion when you saw him."

  "Bring him up; he may be the bearer of a message from my father,"Geoffrey said; and the servant went back to the man, whom he hadleft a short distance off.

  "Master Vickars will speak with you."

  The sailor approached the party. He stood for a minute before Geoffreywithout speaking. Geoffrey looked at him with some surprise, andsaw that the muscles of his face were twitching, and that he wasmuch agitated. As he looked at him remembrance suddenly flashedupon him, and he sprang to his feet. "Stephen Boldero!" he exclaimed.

  "Ay, ay, Geoffrey, it is me."

  For a time the men stood with their right hands clasped and theleft on each other's shoulders. Tears fell down the sailor's weatherbeaten cheeks, and Geoffrey himself was too moved to speak. Fortwo years they had lived as brothers, had shared each other's toilsand dangers, had talked over their plans and hopes together; and itwas to Stephen that Geoffrey owed it that he was not now a galleyslave in Barbary.

  "Old friend, where have you been all this time?" he said at last,"I had thought you dead, and have grieved sorely for you."

  "I have had some narrow escapes," Stephen said; "but you know I amtough. I am worth a good many dead men yet."

  "Delores, Senor Mendez, you both remember Stephen Boldero?" Geoffreysaid, turning to them.

  "We have never forgotten you," the Spaniard said, shaking hands withthe sailor, "nor how much we owe to you. I sent out instructionsby every ship that sailed to the Indies that inquiries should bemade for you; and moreover had letters sent by influential friendsto the governors of most of the islands saying that you had donegreat service to me and mine, and praying that if you were in anyneed or trouble you might be sent back to Cadiz, and that any moneysyou required might be given to you at my charge. But we have heardnought of you from the day when the news came that you had leftthe ship in which you went out."

  "I have had a rough time of it these five years," Stephen said."But I care not now that I am home again and have found my friendGeoffrey. I arrived in Bristol but last week, and started for Londonon the day I landed, mindful of my promise to let his people knowthat he was safe and well, and with some faint hope that the captureof Cadiz had set him at liberty. I got to Hedingham last night,and if I had been a prince Mr. Vickars and his dame and Sir Lionelcould not have made more of me. They were fain that I should stopwith them a day or two; but when I heard that you were in London andhad married Senora Dolores, and that Senor Mendez was with you--allsof which in no way surprised me, for methought I saw it comingbefore I left Cadiz--I could not rest, but was up at daylight thismorning. Your brother offered to procure me a horse, but I shouldhave made bad weather on the craft, and after walking from Bristolthe tramp up to London was nothing. I got to your house in the cityat four; and, finding that you were here, took a boat at once, forI could not rest until I saw my friend again."

  Geoffrey at once took him into the house and set him down to a meal;and when the party were gathered later on in the sitting room, andthe candles were lighted, Stephen told his story.

  "As you will have heard, we made a good voyage to the Indies. Wedischarged our cargo, and took in another. I learned that there weretwo English ships cruising near San Domingo, and the Dons were ingreat fear of them. I thought that my chance lay in joining them,so when we were at our nearest port to that island I one nightborrowed one of the ship's boats without asking leave, and madeoff. I knew the direction in which San Domingo lay, but no more.My hope was that I should either fall in with our ships at sea, or,when I made the island, should be able to gather such informationas might guide me to them. When I made the land, after being fourdays out, I cruised about till the provisions and water I had puton board were exhausted, and I could hold out no longer. Then Imade for the island and landed.

  "You may be sure I did not make for a port, where I should bequestioned, but ran ashore in a wooded bay that looked as if noone had ever set foot there before. I dragged the boat up beyond,as I thought, the reach of the sea, and started to hunt for foodand water. I found enough berries and things to keep me alive,but not enough to stock my boat for another cruise. A week afterI landed there was a tornado, and when it cleared off and I hadrecovered from my fright--for the trees were blown down likerushes, and I thought my last day was come--I found that the boatwas washed away.

  "I was mightily disheartened at this, and after much thinkingmade up my mind that there was nought for it but to keep along theshore until I arrived at a port, and then to give out that I wasa shipwrecked sailor, and either try to get hold of another boat,or take passage back to Spain and make a fresh start. However, thenext morning, just as I was starting, a number of natives ran outof the bush and seized me, and carried me away up into the hills.

  "It was not pleasant at first, for they lit a big fire and weregoing to set me on the top of it, taking me for a Spaniard. Seeingtheir intentions, I took to arguing with them, and told them inSpanish that I was no Spaniard, but an Englishman, and that I had beena slave to the Spaniards and had escaped. Most of them understoodsome Spanish, having themselves been made to work as slavesin their plantations, and being all runaways from the tyranny oftheir masters. They knew, of course, that we were the enemies ofthe Spaniards, and had heard of places being sacked and ships takenby us. But they doubted my story for a long time, till at lastone of them brought a crucifix that had somehow fallen into theirhands, and held it up before me. When I struck it down, as agood Protestant should do, they saw that I was not of the Spanishreligion, and so loosed my bonds and made much of me.

  "They could tell me nothing of the whereabouts of our ships, forthough they had seen vessels at times sail by, the poor creaturesknew nothing of the difference of rig between an English craftand a Spaniard. I abode with them for two years, and aided them intheir fights whenever the Spaniards sent out parties, which theydid many times, to capture them. They were poor, timorous creatures,their spirits being altogether broken by the tyranny of the Dons;but when they saw that I feared them not, and was ready at any timeto match myself against two or, if need be, three of the Spaniards,they plucked up heart, and in time came to fight so stoutly that theSpaniards thought it best to leave them alone, seeing that we hadthe advantage of knowing every foot of the woods, and were ableto pounce down upon them when they were in straitened places andforced to fight at great disadvantage.

  "I was regarded as a great chief by the natives, and could havegone on living with them comfortably enough had not my thoughtsbeen always turning homeward, and a great desire to be among myown people, from whom I had been so long separated, devoured me.At last a Spanish ship was driven ashore in a gale; she went topieces, and every soul was drowned. When the gale abated the nativeswent down to collect the stores driven ashore, and I found on thebeach one of her boats washed up almost uninjured, so nothing woulddo but I must sail away in her. The natives tried their hardest topersuade me to stay with them, but finding that my mind was fixedbeyond recall they gave way and did their best to aid me. The boatwas well stored with provisions; we made a sail for her out ofone belonging to the ship, and I set off, promising them that ifI could not alight upon an English ship I would return to them.

  "I had intended to keep my promise, but things turned out otherwise.I had not been two days at sea when there was another storm, forat one time of the year they have tornadoes very frequently. Ihad nothing to do but to run for it, casting much of my provisionsoverboard to lighten the boat, and baling without ceasing to keepout the water she took in. After running for many hours I was,somewhere about midnight, cast on shore. I made a shift to savemyself, and in the morning found that I was on a low key. Here Ilived for three weeks. Fortunately there was water in some of thehollows of the rocks, and as turtles came ashore to lay their eggsI managed pretty well for a time; but the water dried up, and forthe last week I had nought to drink but the blood of the turtles.

  One morning I saw a ship
passing not far off; and making a signalwith the mast of the boat that had been washed ashore with meI attracted their attention. I saw that she was a Spaniard, butI could not help that, for I had no choice but to hail her. Theytook me to Porto Rico and there reported me as a shipwrecked sailorthey had picked up. The governor questioned me closely as to whatvessel I had been lost from, and although I made up a good storyhe had his doubts. Fortunately it did not enter his mind that I wasnot a Spaniard; but he said he believed I was some bad characterwho had been marooned by my comrades for murder or some other crime,and so put me in prison until he could learn something that wouldverify my story.

  "After three months I was taken out of prison, but was set towork on the fortifications, and there for another two years I hadto stop. Then I managed to slip away one day, and, hiding tillnightfall, made my way down through the town to the quays and swamout to a vessel at anchor. I climbed on board without notice, andhid myself below, where I lay for two days until she got up sail.When I judged she was well away from the land I went on deck andtold my story, that I was a shipwrecked sailor who had been forcedby the governor to work at the fortifications. They did not believeme, saying that I must be some criminal who had escaped from justice,and the captain said he should give me up at the next port the shiptouched. Fortunately four days afterwards a sail hove in sight andgave chase, and before it was dark was near enough to fire a gunand make us heave to, and a quarter of an hour later a boat camealongside, and I again heard English spoken for the first timesince I had left you at Cadiz.

  "It was an English buccaneer, who, being short of water and freshvegetables, had chased us, though seeing we were but a petty traderand not likely to have aught else worth taking on board. Theywondered much when I discovered myself to them and told them whoI was and how I had come there; and when, on their rowing me onboard their ship, I told the captain my story he told me that hethought I was the greatest liar he had ever met. To be a galley slaveamong the Spaniards, a galley slave among the Moors, a consorterwith Indians for two years, and again a prisoner with the Spaniardsfor as much more than fell to the lot of any one man, and he, likethe Spanish governor, believed that I was some rascal who had beenmarooned, only he thought that it was from an English ship. However,he said that as I was a stout fellow he would give me anotherchance; and when, a fortnight later, we fell in with a great Spanishgalleon and captured her with a great store of prize money aftera hard fight for six hours, the last of which was passed on thedeck of the Spaniard cutting and slashing--for, being laden withsilver, she had a company of troops on board in addition to hercrew--the captain said, that though an astonishing liar there was nobetter fellow on board a ship, and, putting it to the crew, theyagreed I had well earned my share of the prize money. When we hadgot the silver on board, which was a heavy job I can tell you,though not an unpleasant one, we put what Spaniards remained aliveinto the boats, fired the galleon, and set sail for England, wherewe arrived without adventure.

  "The silver was divided on the day before we cast anchor, theowner's share being first set aside, every man his share, and theofficers theirs in proportion. Mine came to over a thousand pounds,and it needed two strong men to carry the chest up to the officeof the owners, who gave me a receipt for it, which, as soon as Igot, I started for London; and here, as you see, I am."

  "And now, what do you propose to do with yourself, Stephen?" Geoffreyasked.

  "I shall first travel down again to Devonshire and see what friendsI have remaining there. I do not expect to find many alive, forfifteen years make many changes. My father and mother were bothdead before I started, and my uncle, with whom I lived for a time,is scarce like to be alive now. Still I may find some cousins andfriends I knew as a boy."

  "I should think you have had enough of the sea, Stephen, and youhave now ample to live ashore in comfort for the rest of your life."

  "Yes, I shall go no more to sea," Stephen said. "Except for thislast stroke of luck fortune has always been against me. What Ishould like, Master Geoffrey, most of all, would be to come up andwork under you. I could be of advantage in seeing to the loadingand unloading of vessels and the storage of cargo. As for pay, Ishould not want it, having, as you say, enough to live comfortablyupon. Still I should like to be with you."

  "And I should like to have you with me, Stephen. Nothing would giveme greater pleasure. If you are still of that mind when you returnfrom Devonshire we can again talk the matter over, and as ourwishes are both the same way we can have no difficulty in comingto an agreement."

  Stephen Boldero remained for a week in London and then journeyeddown to Devonshire. His idea of entering Geoffrey's service wasnever carried out, for after he had been gone two months Geoffreyreceived a letter from him saying that one of his cousins, who hadbeen but a little girl when he went away, had laid her orders uponhim to buy a small estate and settle down there, and that as shewas willing to marry him on no other terms he had nothing to dobut to assent.

  Once a year, however, regularly to the end of his life StephenBoldero came up to London to stay for a fortnight with Geoffrey,always coming by road, for he declared that he was convinced if heset foot on board a ship again she would infallibly be wrecked onher voyage to London.