CHAPTER V.
PENNILESS COMPANIONS.
"I walk in great danger of small debts. I owe money to several hostesses."--_The Puritan._
The next day, after dinner, finding the four dupes as much puffed upwith imagined valour as he had hoped, Ravenshaw put forward the matterof a fit reward. That they might more freely consider, he left them forhalf an hour, taking Holyday with him.
"Troth," began Master Hawes, when the four were alone, "I think wehave bestowed somewhat already upon these two. If they are pressed formoney, why don't they pawn some of the clothes we've given 'em?"
"They consider they must be well clad to go in our company," saidClarington.
"If it comes to that," said Maylands, "we can dispense with 'em. Weroared down this Cutting Tom and his Turnbull rangers, why should we bestill beholden to this captain?"
"And we've learned as much of t'other one's travels as we're like toremember," added Dauncey.
"Let them go hang for any more gifts!" said Maylands.
"Will you tell them so?" queried Hawes.
"Faith, yes! An we can roar down four Turnbull rangers, can we not roardown this one captain? He has taught us all he knows himself."
"Yet I would not have him think us stingy," said Hawes, who, as he wasstingy, was sensitive as to being thought so.
"Why, look you," replied Maylands. "When they come back, I'll saywe'll satisfy 'em, touching a gift of money, ere the day be done.Then, presently, we'll find some occasion in their talk for a quarrel.Thereupon, we'll roar 'em down, and so break with 'em."
The occasion arrived when Master Holyday was in the midst of awonderfully imagined tale of travel. He told how he had escaped fromBarbary pirates in the Mediterranean, and swum ashore to the harbourof--Fez!
"What, man?" broke in Master Clarington. "Fez is not on the seacoast."
"Most certainly it is," said the scholar, imperturbably.
"'Tis not. I had an uncle, a merchant adventurer, was there once. Hehad to journey far inland."
"Oh, ay," said Holyday, a little staggered; "the city of Fez isinland, but the country borders on the sea. 'Twas that I meant."
"Nay, you spoke of the harbour; you must have meant the city."
"Tush, tush!" put in Ravenshaw, anxious to keep up the scholar'scredit. "He meant the country; a fool could see that."
"Ay, truly," said Master Maylands, "a fool; but none else."
"I'll thank you for better manners," said Ravenshaw, sharply.
"Manners, thou braggart!" cried Maylands, seizing his opportunity."Thou sponge, thou receptacle of cast clothing! Talk you of manners?"
"What!--what!--what!--what!" was all the answer the amazed captaincould make for the moment.
"Ay, manners, thou base, scurvy knave; thou houseless parasite, thouresuscitated starveling!--thou and thy hungry scholar!" put in MasterHawes.
"Oho! 'Tis thus? Ye think to try my swaggering lessons against me?"said the captain, springing to his feet.
"Pish! You are no better than Cutting Tom," retorted Maylands.
Ravenshaw's wrath knew no bounds. The four rebellious pupils andproviders were on their feet, defiant and impudent.
"You'd raise your weak breath against me, would ye? And you'd fingeryour sword-hilts, would ye?" he roared. "By this hand, ye shall drawthem, too! Draw, and fend your numbskulls 'gainst the whacks I'll give'em! Draw, and save your puny shoulders! I scorn to use good steelagainst ye, dunces, lispers, puppies! I'll rout ye with a spit!"
They had drawn swords at his word, thinking he would wield his rapieragainst them. But, as it was, they had an ill time enough to defendthemselves against the spit he had seized from the fireplace. Nimbly heknocked aside their blades, violently he charged among them, swiftly helaid about him on pates and bodies; so that in small time they fled,appalled and panic-stricken, not only from the room, but down thestairs. The captain did not take the trouble to follow them beyond thedoorsill of the room.
"Hang them, bubbles!" quoth he. "They shall come on their knees andlick my shoes, ere I'll take 'em back to favour again."
But the scholar philosophically shrugged his shoulders.
To make matters worse, as the two were about to leave the tavern, theywere called upon to pay the score. Ravenshaw said the young gentlemenwould pay, as usual.
"Nay," said the hostess, "they went away cursing my tavern, and sayingthey would never come near it again. 'Twas you ordered, and I look toyou to pay. 'Tis bad enough an you drive good customers from my house,and give it a bad name with your swaggering."
"Peace, peace, sweetheart. We have no money to pay; there's not a groatbetween us."
"Then you have clothes to pawn. I'll have my money, or I'll enter anaction. So look to't, or, by this light, ye'll find yourselves inprison, I swear to ye!"
The two unfortunates fled from her tongue, down the Old Jewry. It rainsnot but it pours; and when they reached their lodgings in St. LawrenceLane they were confronted by the woman of the house, whose distrust hadbeen brought to a head by their absence the previous night. She musthave her money; let them go less bravely clad, and pay their honestdebts, else they had best beware of sheriff's officers.
When they were alone in their room, Holyday was for selling their fineclothes.
"Never, never!" said Ravenshaw. "If we cannot make our fortunes in fineclothes, how shall we do it in rags? Though we go penniless, while welook gallant we shall be relied upon. Some enterprise will fall ourway."
The next morning they rose before their hostess, and took leave of herhouse without troubling her with farewells. They found new quarters ina shoemaker's house in St. Martin's-le-Grand, and avoided their oldhaunts for fear of arrest.
The question of meals now grew difficult. Ravenshaw had become so wellknown that possible adversaries at the gaming-tables shunned him.What little credit he could still compass at ordinaries and tavernssoon prepared the way for new threats of arrest. Sometimes the twocompanions contrived to eat once a day, sometimes once in two days.After a time, the captain agreed that Holyday might barter his clothes.The scholar speedily appeared in a suit of modest black, as if he werehis gallant companion's secretary; and for awhile the two feasteddaily. But anon they were penniless again, and went hungry. The captainswore he would not part with his fine raiment; though he should starve,it would be as a swaggering gallant still.
No Lent was ever better kept than was the latter part of that year'sLent (though to no profit of the fishmongers) by those two undone men.Their cheeks became hollow, their bellies sank inward, they could feeltheir ribs when they passed their hands over their chests. They wentfeverish and gaunt, with parched mouths and griped stomachs. As hungergnawed him, and the fear of sheriff's officers beset him at everycorner, and hope grew feeble within him, the captain became subject toalternations of grim resignation and futile rage. The scholar starvedwith serenity, as became a master of the liberal arts, being visitedin his sleep by dreams of glorious banquets, upon which in his wakinghours he made sonnets.
In May the patience of the shoemaker in St. Martin's-le-Grand wasexhausted, and the two penniless men had other lodgings to seek.
They spent much of their time now in St. Paul's Church. Here employmentwas like to offer, and here was comparative safety from arrest, certainparts of the church being held sanctuary for debtors. To St. Paul's,therefore, they went on the morning that found them again roofless;keeping a lookout on the way thither for any sheriff's men who mightwith warrant be in quest of them. It was fortunate that none waylaidthem, for the captain was in such mood that he would have gone nearslaying any that had. Neither he nor Holyday had eaten for two days.
They took their station against a pillar in the middle aisle of thegreat church, and watched with sharp eyes the many-coloured crowd ofmen, of every grade from silken gallants to burden-bearing porters,that passed up and down before them, making a ceaseless noise offootfalls and voices, and sometimes giving the pair scant room fortheir famished bodies.
The St. Pa
ul's of that time was larger than the present cathedral. Itcovered three and a half acres, and was proportionately lofty. Thanksto its great doors and wide aisles, it afforded a short way throughfor those foot-goers in whose route it lay,--porters, labourers, andcitizens going about their business. But its wide aisles served betterstill as a covered lounging-place for those on whose hands time hungheavy,--gentlemen of fashion, men who lived by their wits, fellows whosought service, and the like. These were the true "Paul's walkers."It was a meeting-place, too, for those who had miscellaneous businessto transact; a great resort for the exchange of news, in a day whennewspapers did not exist. Certain of the huge pillars supporting thegroined arches of the roof were used to post advertising bills upon.The services, in which a very fine organ and other instruments wereemployed, were usually held in the choir only, and the crowd in thenave and transepts did not much disturb itself on account of them. Thetime of most resort was the hour before the midday dinner; and it wasthen that Ravenshaw and Holyday took their stand before the pillar onthis May morning.
"There walks a poet that hath found a patron," said the scholar. "Yet'tis ten to one the verses he is showing are no better than thesesonnets in my breeches pocket here."
"If you had a capon's leg or two in your breeches pocket it were moreto the purpose," replied the captain.
"'Troth, my sonnets are full of capon's legs and all other things goodto eat," sighed Holyday. "I've conceived rare dishes lately; I havewrit of nothing else."
"If we could but eat the dishes out of thy sonnets!" mutteredRavenshaw. "How can you write sonnets while you are hungry?"
"Why, your born poet finds discomfort a spur. There was the prophetJonas writ a sonnet in the whale's belly."
"Faith, I'd rather undertake to write one with a whale in my belly! Ifeel room for a whale there. Who the devil comes here?"
It was none other than Master Maylands, and following him wereClarington, Dauncey, and Hawes, the four being attended by a footmanand a page. These gallants, in coming down the aisle, had espied thecaptain before he had seen them. They had stopped and held a briefcolloquy.
"Pish! who's afeard?" Maylands had said. "He won't fight in the church."
"And if he will," said Clarington, "we can 'scape in the crowd."
"Hang him, hedgehog!" said Dauncey. "I think the spirit has gone out ofhim, by his looks."
"It makes me boil," said Hawes, "to see the dog dressed out like agentleman in clothes of our giving."
The gallants advanced, therefore, looking as supercilious and impudentas they could.
"God save you, dog of war!" said Maylands.
"God lose you, pup of peace!" replied the captain.
"Faith, I had thought 'twas a warm day," said Maylands, "but for seeingyou wear a heavy cloak. Or is it that you durs'n't leave it home, lestit be seized in pawn for debt?"
"You are merry," quoth the captain, briefly; for the gallant hadmentioned the true reason.
"It shows your regard for us," put in Hawes, "that you always wear ourclothes, to avoid their being seized."
"A finger-snap for your clothes!" said the captain, his ire engenderedby their daring to make so free of speech with him.
"Nay, you value 'em more than that," said Clarington. "They're all youhave."
"Is it so?" said the captain.
"Ay," said Maylands, "you must needs wear our livery still, whether youwill or no."
"Your livery, curse ye!" cried Ravenshaw, observing that some inthe crowd had halted to see what game of banter was going on. "Why,monkeys, I've worn these clothes about the town in hope of meetingye, that I might give 'em back. Since I did ye the honour to take yourgifts, I've heard things of ye that make it a shame to have knownye. I've sought ye everywhere; but the fear of a beating has kept yeindoors. Now that I meet ye, for God's sake take back your gifts,and clear me of all beholding to such vermin! Your cloak, say you?Yes, lap-dog, there's for you. I thank God I'm free of it!" Acting onthe impulse which had come with the inspiration for his retort, andwrought up beyond all thought of expediency, he had flung the cloak inthe astonished gallant's face. "This bonnet will better fit an emptyhead," and he tossed his cap to Clarington. "Here's a doublet, too;I've long ached to be rid of it," he cried, divesting himself of thatgarment as fast as he could, to hurl it at the head of Master Hawes."This ruff has choked me of late; I pray you, hang yourself with it;there'll be an ass the less. The shoes are yours, coney; take 'em, andwalk to hell in 'em!" He threw them one after another at their formerowner, and began drawing off his stockings. "I'll be more careful inaccepting gifts hereafter; a gift is a tie, and a man should make notie with those he may come to hear foul reports of. Your stockings,sir! The breeches,--nay, I must take them off at home, and send 'em toyou later; them and the shirt, and sundry linen and such, that are withthe laundress. Take these gloves, though, and this handkerchief; andyou your hanger and scabbard, and the rest. Take 'em, I bid ye, or--Andnow, whelps, you've got what's yours. Thank God, the sword and daggerare my own! My weapons may go naked while my body does. Vanish, withyour gifts! I scorn ye!"
His voice and looks were such that the four gentlemen thought best toobey. Hastily entrusting the captain's cast raiment to the footman andpage, who closely followed them, they pushed through the grinning crowdthat had witnessed the scene; and the captain was left in his shirt andbreeches, with his sword and dagger in his hands, to the amused gaze ofthe assembly, and the somewhat rueful contemplation of Master Holyday.
Captain Ravenshaw; Or, The Maid of Cheapside. A Romance of Elizabethan London Page 8
