CHAPTER III.
A PRIZE.
It was a bright morning some three weeks after the occurrences related inthe last chapter, when a squadron of four Roman galleys swept round thepoint which is now known as the South Foreland. The leader of the four,all of which, indeed, lay so close together as to be within easy hailingdistance, bore on its mainmast the _Labarum_, or Imperial standard,showing on a ground of purple a cross, a crown, and the sacred initials,all wrought in gold. It was the flagship, so to speak, of the great Counthimself, one of the most important lieutenants of the Empire, whose taskit was to guard the shores of Britain and Northern Gaul from the pirateswarms that issued from the harbours of the North Sea and the Baltic. TheCount himself was on board, coming south from his villa on the easternshore--for the stations of which he had the charge extended as far as theWash--to his winter residence in the sunny island of Vectis.
The Count was a tall man of middle age, and wore over his tunic a militarycloak reaching to the hips, and clasped at the neck with a handsome devicein gold, representing a hunting-dog with his teeth fixed in a stag. Hishead was covered with a broad-brimmed hat of felt. The only weapon that hecarried was a short sword, which, with its plain hilt and leatherscabbard, was evidently meant for use rather than show. His wholeappearance and bearing, indeed, were those of a man of action and energy.His eyes were bright and piercing; his nose showed, strongly pronounced,the curve which has always been associated with the ability to command;the contour of his chin and lips, as far as could be seen through a shortcurling beard and moustache, worn as a prudent defence against theclimate, betokened firmness. Still, the expression of the face was notunkindly. As a great writer says of one whom Britain had had good reasonin earlier days both to fear and to love, "one would easily believe him tobe a good man, and willingly believe him to be great."
At the time when our story opens he was standing in conversation with thehelmsman, a weather-beaten old sailor, whose dark Southern complexion hadbeen deepened by the sun and winds of more than fifty years of serviceinto an almost African hue.
"The wind will hardly serve us as well as it has," said the Count, as hispractised eye, familiar with every yard of the coast, perceived that theywere well abreast of the extreme southern point of the coast.
"No, my lord," said the old man, "we shall have to take as long a tack aswe can to the south. There is a deal of west in the wind--more, I think,than there was an hour since. Castor and Pollux--I beg your lordship'spardon, the blessed Saints--defend us from anything like a westerly gale."
"Ah! old croaker," replied the Count, with a laugh, "I verily believe thatyou will be half disappointed if we get to our journey's end without somemishap."
"Good words, good words, my lord," said the old man, hastily crossinghimself, while he muttered something, which, if it could have beenoverheard, would have been scarcely suitable to that act of devotion."Heaven bring us safe to our journey's end! Of course it is yourlordship's business to give orders, and ours to go to the bottom, if it isto be so. But I must say, saving your presence, that it is against allrules of a sailor's craft as I have known it, man and boy, for nigh uponthreescore years, to be at sea near about a month after the autumnequinox.
'Never let your keel be wet, When the Pleiades have set; Never let your keel be dry, When the Crown is in the sky.'
That is what my father used to say, and his fathers before him, for I donot know how many generations, for we have always followed the sea."
"Very well for them, perhaps," said the Count, "in the days when a manwould almost as soon go into a lion's den as venture out of sight of land.But the world is too busy to let us waste half our year on shore."
"Yes, yes, I know all about that," answered the old man, who wasprivileged to have the last word even with so great a personage as theCount; "but there is a proverb, 'Much haste, little speed,' and I havealways found it quite as true by sea as by land."
Meanwhile the proper signals had been given to the rest of the squadron,and the whole four were now heading south, with a point or two to thewest, the _Panther_--for that was the name of the flagship--still slightlyleading the way, with her consorts in close company. In this order theymade about twelve miles, the wind freshening somewhat as they drew furtheraway from the British shore, and, being nearly aft, carrying them brisklyalong.
"Fine sailing, fine sailing," said the old helmsman, drawn almost in spiteof himself into an exclamation of delight, as the _Panther_, rushingthrough the water with an almost even keel, began to widen the gap betweenherself and her nearest follower. The short waves, which just broke insparkling foam, the brilliant sunshine, almost bringing back summer withits noonday heat, and the sea with a blue which recalled, though butfaintly, the deep tint of his native Mediterranean, combined to gladdenthe old man's soul. "But we need not put about now," he said to himself."If this wind holds we shall fetch Lemanis(11) without requiring to tack."
He was about to give the necessary orders to trim the sails, when he wasstopped by a shout from the look-out man at the bow, "A sail on thestarboard side!" Just within the range of a keen sight, in thesouth-western horizon, the sunlight fell on what was evidently a sail. Butthe distance was too great to let even the keenest sight distinguish whatkind of craft it might be, or which way it was moving. The Count, who hadgone below for his mid-day meal, was of course informed of the news. Hecame at once upon deck, and lost no time in making up his mind.
"If she is an enemy," he said to the old helmsman, "she will be eastwardbound; though I never knew a pirate keep the sea quite so late in theyear. If she is a friend she will probably be sailing westward, or evencoming our way--but it does not matter which. If she has anything to tellus, we shall be sure to hear it sooner or later. But it will never do tolet a pirate escape if we can help it. Any one who is out so late as themiddle of October must have had good reason for stopping, and can hardlyfail to be worth catching. Quintus, put her right before the wind, andclap on every inch of canvas."
The course of the squadron was now changed to nearly due south-east. Alleyes, of course, were bent on the strange craft, and before an hour hadpassed it was evident that the Count had been right in his guess. Therewere four ships; they were long and low in the water, of the build whichwas only too well known along the coasts of Gaul and Britain, where noriver or creek, if it gave as much as three or four feet of water, wassafe from their attack. In short, they were Saxon pirates, and were nowmoving eastward with all the speed that sails and oars could give them.The question that every one on board the _Panther_ was putting to himselfwith intense interest was, "Shall we be able to intercept them?" For thepresent the Count's ship had the advantage of speed, thanks to the windabaft the beam. But a stern chase would be useless. On equal terms thepirates were at least as quick as their pursuers. The light, too, of theautumn day would soon fail, and with the light every chance of successwould be gone.
For a time it seemed as if the escape of the pirate was certain. "Cursethe scoundrels!" cried the Count, as he paced impatiently up and down theafter deck. "If it would only come on to blow in real earnest we shouldhave them. Anyhow, I would sooner that we should all founder together thanthat they should get off scot free."
The _Panther_, which had left her consorts about a mile in the rear, wasnow near enough for her crew to see distinctly the outlines of the pirateships, to mark the glitter of the shields that were ranged along thegunwales, and to catch the rhythmic rise and fall of the long sweepingoars. The Saxons were evidently straining every nerve to make good theirescape, and it seemed scarcely possible that they could fail. Then came aturn of fortune--the very thing, in fact, that the Count had prayed for.For a time--only a very few moments--the wind freshened to something likethe force of a gale. The masts of the _Panther_ were strained to theutmost of their strength; they groaned and bent like whips under thesudden pressure on the canvas, but the seasoned timber stood the suddencall upon it bravely. H
ow the Count blessed himself that he had neverpassed over a piece of bad workmanship or bad material! The good ship tooka wild plunge forward, but nothing gave way. But the last of the fourpirates was not so fortunate. She had one tall mast, carrying afore-and-aft sail, so large as to be quite out of proportion to her size.The wind struck her nearly sideways, and she heeled over till her keelcould almost be seen. For a moment it was doubtful whether she would notcapsize. Then the mast gave. The vessel righted at once, but only to lieutterly helpless on the water, with all her starboard oars hopelesslyentangled with the canvas and rigging. What the Count would have done hadhis ship been entirely in hand it is difficult to say. No speedier or moreeffective way of dealing with the enemy than running her down could havebeen practised. The _Panther_ had three or four times the tonnage of heradversary, whose lightness and low bulwarks made her easily accessible tothis kind of attack. Nor would the pirates have a chance of showing thedesperate valour which the Roman boarding-parties had learnt to respectand almost to fear. The only argument on the other side would have beenthat prisoners and booty would probably be lost. But, as a matter of fact,the Count had no opportunity of weighing the _pros_ and _cons_ in thematter. The _Panther_, driving as she was straight before the wind, waspractically unmanageable. She struck the pirate craft with a tremendouscrash amidships, and cut her almost literally in half. One blow, and oneonly, did the pirates strike at their conquerors. When escape had becomemanifestly impossible by the fall of the mast, the Saxon warriors haddropped their oars, and seizing their bows had discharged a volley ofarrows against the Roman ship. The hurry and confusion of the moment didnot favour accurate aim, and most of the missiles flew wide of the mark;but one seemed to have been destined to fulfil the helmsman's expectationsof evil to come. It struck the old man on the left side, inflicting afatal wound. In the first confusion of the shock the incident was notnoticed, for the brave fellow stuck gallantly to the tiller, proppinghimself up against it while he kept the _Panther_ steadily before thewind. In fact, loss of blood had brought him nearly to his end before itwas even known that he had been wounded. Then, in a moment, the Count wasat his side.
The Panther and the Saxon Pirate.]
"Carry him to my own cabin," he said.
The old man raised his hand in a gesture that seemed to refuse the servicewhich half a dozen stout sailors were at once ready to render him. "Nay,"said he, "it is idle; this arrow has sped me. But let me die here, where Ican see the waves and the sky. I have known them, man and boy, threescoreyears--aye, and more, for my father would take me on his ship when I was atiny chap of three feet high. Nay, no cabin for me; 'tis almost as bad asdying in one's bed."
His voice grew feeble. The Count stopped, and asked whether there wasanything that he could do for him.
"Nay," said the old man, "nothing; I have neither chick nor child. 'Tisall as well as I could have wished. But mark, my lord, I was right aboutsailing in October. Any one that knows the sea would be sure that troublemust come of it."
The next moment he was past speaking or hearing.
It was his privilege, we must remember, to have the last word.
The _Panther_ meanwhile had been brought to the wind. Her consorts, too,had come up, and a search was made for any survivors of the encounter thatmight be still afloat. Some had been killed outright by the concussion;others had been so hurt that they could make no effort to save themselves.They would not, however, have made it if they could. Those that hadescaped uninjured evidently preferred drowning to a Roman prison. Withgrim resolution they straightened their arms to their sides and went down.Only two survivors were picked up. These, evidently twins from their closeresemblance to each other, were found clinging to a fragment of timber.One had been grievously hurt, the other had not suffered any injury.
The wounded man, who had received an almost fatal blow upon the head, hadlost the power to move, and was holding on to life more than halfunconsciously; and his brother, moved by that passionate love so oftenfound between twins, had sacrificed himself--that is, the honour which hecounted dearer than life--to save him. Had he had only himself to think of,he would have been the first to go down a free man to the bottom of thesea; but his brother was almost helpless, and he could not leave him.
When it was evident that all further search would be useless, the squadronset their sails for Lemanis, which, thanks to a further change in the windto the northward, they were able to reach before midnight.
The Count of the Saxon Shore; or The Villa in Vectis. Page 5
