CHAPTER III.
"In every creed, 'Tis on all hands agreed, And plainly confest, When the weather is hot, That we stick to the pot And drink of the best."
OLD SONG.
"Of all seasons of the year, autumn is the most voluptuous, and Octoberthe loveliest of months. Then may a man sit at his door--in the sun ifhe choose, for he will not find it too hot--or in the shade, if itliketh him, for neither will he find this too cool, and there holdconverse with his own meditations: or he may ride or walk, dance orsing, for in this October time a man hath heart for any pastime, sorich is the air, and such pleasant imaginations doth it engender. Andif he be poetical, therein will he be greatly favoured; for surelynever nature puts on such gaudy attire, on earth or sky, as she wearsin our October. The morning haze, which the hoarfrost flings up to meetthe sun, hangs across the landscape as if made on purpose to enchantthe painter; and the evening sunset lights up the heavens with a glorythat shall put that painter--even Claude or Salvator--to shame at theinadequacy of his art. And then the woods!--what pallet hath coloursfor the forest? Of all the months of the year, commend me to October!"
Some such rhapsody as this was running through the thoughts, andbreaking forth in slight mutterings from the lips of the Captain ofMusqueteers, on an afternoon in this much lauded month of October, inthe year I have alluded to in a former chapter, as he sate in frontof his quarters in the fort. A small table was displayed upon thepavement, supplied with a flagon, pipes, and drinking cups. TheCaptain's solid bulk was deposited in a broad arm-chair, close by thetable. His sword and cloak lay upon a bench at the door, and a lightbreeze flickered amongst his short and hoary locks, where they escapedfrom the cover of a cloth bonnet which he had now substituted for hisbeaver. A sentinel stood on post at the gate, towards which theCaptain, as he slowly quaffed a cup, ever and anon turned an expectanteye. Once or twice he rose from his seat and strode backward andforward across the parade, then visited the rampart, which afforded hima view of the road leading from the town, and finally resumed his seatand renewed his solitary and slow potation.
When the sun had sunk halfway down the flag-staff, the Captain's wisheswere crowned by the arrival of a brace of visiters.
The first of these was Garret Weasel, the publican, a thin, small man,in a suit of gray; of a timid carriage and slender voice. He might havebeen observed for a restless, undefinable eye which seemed to possessthe habitual circumspection of a tapster to see the need of a customer;and this expression was sustained by a rabbit-like celerity of motionwhich raised the opinion of his timidity. There was an air ofassentation and reverence in his demeanour, which, perhaps, grew out ofthe domestic discipline of his spouse, a buxom dame with the heart of alioness. She had trained Master Garret to her hand, where he might haveworn out his days in implicit obedience, had it not luckily fallen outfor him, that Captain Dauntrees had settled himself down in this cornerof the New World. The Captain being a regular trafficker in thecommodities of the Crow and Archer, and no whit over-awed by thesupremacy of mine hostess, soon set himself about seducing herworse-half from his allegiance, so far as was necessary, at least, tosatisfy his own cravings for company at the fort. He therefore freelymade himself the scapegoat of Garret's delinquencies, confiding in thewheedling power of his tongue, to pacify the dame. With all thetapster's humility and meekness, he still followed the Captain throughhis irregularities with the adhesiveness and submission of adog--carousing on occasion like a man of stouter mould, and imitatingthe reveller-tone of his companion with an ambitious though not alwayssuccessful zeal. He did not naturally lack merriment; but it was not ofthe boisterous stamp: there was, at his worst outbreak, a glimmering ofdeference and respect, rising up to a rickety laugh, and a songsometimes, yet without violent clamour; and the salt tears were oftenwrung from his eyes by the pent-up laughter which his vocation and hissubordinate temper had taught him it was unseemly to discharge in avolley.
His companion was a tall, sinewy, and grave person, habited in theguise of a forester--a cap, namely, of undressed deer skin, a buffjerkin, guarded by a broad belt and buckle at the waist, and leggingsof brown leather. This was a Fleming, named Arnold de la Grange, whobelonged to the corps of wood rangers in the service of the LordProprietary. He had arrived in the province in the time of LordCecilius, many years before, and had shared much of the toil of theearly settlement. His weather-beaten and gaunt form, tawny cheek, andgrizzled hair, bespoke a man inured to the hard service of a frontierlife, whilst his erect port and firm step, evinced that naturalgracefulness which belongs to men trained to the self-dependencenecessary to breast the ever-surrounding perils of such a service. Hewas a man of few words, and these were delivered in a Low Dutch accent,which his long intercourse with the English had failed to correct. Whenhis service on his range was intermitted, Arnold found quarters amongstthe retainers of the Proprietary mansion, and the Proprietary himselfmanifested towards the forester that degree of trust, and evenaffection, which resulted from a high sense of his fidelity andconduct, and which gave him a position of more privilege than wasenjoyed by the other dependents of the establishment. Being, at theseintervals, an idler, he was looked upon with favour by the Captain ofthe fort, who was not slow to profit by the society of such a veteranin the long watches of a dull afternoon. By a customary consequence,Arnold was no less esteemed by the publican.
A bluff greeting and short ceremony placed the visiters at the table,and each, upon a mute signal from the host, appropriated his cup andpipe.
"You are never a true man, Garret Weasel," said the Captain, "to dallyso long behind your appointment; and such an appointment, too! statematters would be trifles to it. The round dozen which you lost to me onDame Dorothy's head gear--a blessing on it!--you did yourself so orderit, was to be broached at three of the clock; and now, by my troth, itis something past four. There is culpable laches in it. Idleness is thecanker of the spirit, but occupation is the lard of the body, as I mayaffirm in my own person. Mistress Dorothy, I suspect, has this tardycoming to answer for. I doubt the brow of our brave dame hath beencloudy this afternoon. How is it, Arnold? bachelor, and Dutchman toboot, you will speak without fear."
"The woman," replied Arnold, in a broken English accent, which I do notattempt to convey in syllables, "had her suspicions."
"Hold ye, Captain Dauntrees," eagerly interrupted the innkeeper,drawing up his chair to the table--for he had seated himself a fullarms-length off, in awkward deference to his host; "and hold ye, MasterArnold! my wife rules not me, as some evil-minded jesters report: no,in faith! We were much beset to-day. In sooth I could not come sooner.Customers, you know, Captain, better than most men, customers must beanswered, and will be answered, when we poor servants go athirst. Wewere thronged to-day; was it not so, Arnold?"
"That is true," replied the forester; "the wife had her hands full aswell as Garret himself. There were traders in the port, to-day, fromthe Bay Shore and the Isle of Kent, and some from the country back, tohear whether the brigantine had arrived. They had got some story thatCocklescraft should be here."
"I see it," said Dauntrees; "that fellow, Cocklescraft, hath a trick ofwarning his friends. He never comes into port but there be strangerumours of him ahead; it seems to be told by the pricking of thumbs.St. Mary's is not the first harbour where he drops his anchor, norAnthony Warden the first to docket his cargo. You understand me."
"You have a bold mind, Captain," said the publican; "you men of thewars speak your thoughts."
"You are none the losers by Master Cocklescraft," interposed Arnold,drily.
"My wife pays honestly for the liquors," said Weasel, as his eyeglanced timorously from one to the other of his comrades; "I take noheed of the accounts."
"But the head gear, Garret," rejoined Dauntrees, laughing; "you pay forthat, though the mercer saw my coin for it. Twelve bottles of Canarywere a good return on that venture. The bauble sits lightly on the headof the dame, and it is but fair that the winnings should rise aslightly
into ours. But for Cocklescraft, we should lack these means tobe merry. The customs are at a discount on a dark night. Well, be itso. What point of duty calls on us to baulk the skipper in his trade?We are of the land, not of the water; consumers, on the disbursing sideof the account, not of the gathering in. The revenue hath its properfriends, and we should neither meddle nor make. Worthy Garret Weaselhas good report in the province for the reasonableness of hiswines--and long may he deserve that commendation!"
"I thank heaven that I strive to merit the good will of the freemen,"interrupted the innkeeper.
"And he is something given to brag of his wines. Faith, and withreason! Spain and Portugal, the Garonne and the Rhine, are histributaries. Garret, we know the meridian of your El Dorado."
"Nay, nay, Master Captain--your worship is merry; I beseech you----"
"Never mind your beseeching, my modest friend. You scarce do yourselfjustice. You have his Lordship's license paid for in good roundducatoons--and that's the fee of a clear conscience. So let the tradethrive! The exchequer is not a baby to be in swaddling bands, unable tofeed itself. No, it has the eagle's claw, and wants no help from thee,thou forlorn tapster! Make thine honest penny, Garret; all thirstyfellows will stand by thee."
"I would be thought orderly, Master Dauntrees."
"Thou art so computed--to a fault. You would have been so reckoned inLord Cecil's time; and matters are less straitened now-a-days. LordCharles gives more play to good living than his father allowed of. Youremember his Lordship's father set his face against wines and strongwaters."
"He did, gentlemen," said Weasel, squaring himself in his seat withanimation. "Heaven forbid I should speak but as becomes me of thehonourable Lord Cecil's memory, or of his honourable son! but to mycost, I know that his Lordship's father was no friend to evil courses,or sottish behaviour, or drinking, unless it was in moderation, markyou. But, with humility, I protest the law is something hard on us poorordinary keepers: for you shall understand, Arnold Grange, that at asale by outcry, if there should lack wherewithal to pay the debts ofthe debtor, the publican and vintner are shut out, seeing that thescore for wines and strong waters is the last to be paid."
"And good law it is, let me tell you Garret Weasel! Good and wholesome:wisely laid down by the burgesses, and wisely maintained by his Lordship.You rail without cause. Sober habits must be engendered:--your health,comrades! Then it behooves you publicans to be nice in your custom. Wewill none of your lurdans that can not pay scot and lot--your runagatesthat fall under the statute of outcry. Let them drink of the clearbrook! There is wisdom and virtue in the law. Is it not so, Arnold?"
"It preaches well," replied the forester, as he sent forth a volume ofsmoke from his lips.
"Another flask, and we will drink to his Lordship," said Dauntrees, whonow left the table and returned with the fourth bottle. "Fill up,friends; the evening wears apace. Here's to his Lordship, and hisLordship's ancestors of ever noble and happy memory!"
As Dauntrees smacked his lip upon emptying his cup, he flung himselfback in his chair, and in a thoughtful tone ejaculated: "The good LordCharles has had a heavy time of it since his return from England; thesechurch brawlers would lay gunpowder under our hearth-stones. And thenthe death of young Lord Cecil, whilst his father was abroad, too; itwas a heavy blow. My lady hath never held up her head since."
A pause succeeded to this grave reflection, during which the triosmoked their pipes in silence, which was at length broken by anattenuated sigh from the publican, as he exclaimed, "Well-a-day! thegreat have their troubles as well as the rest of us. It is my opinionthat Heaven will have its will, Captain; that's my poor judgment." Andhaving thus disburdened himself of this weighty sentiment--the weightof it being increased, perhaps, by the pressure of his previouspotations--he drained the heel tap, which stood in his glass, and halfwhispered, when he had done, "That's as good a drop of Canary as evergrew within the horizon of the Peak of Teneriffe."
"Through the good will of friend Cocklescraft," interrupted Dauntrees,suddenly resuming his former gaiety.
"Pray you, Captain Dauntrees," said the publican, with a hurriedconcern, "think what hurt thy jest may bring upon me. Arnold knows notyour merry humour, and may believe, from your speech, that I am notreputable."
"Pish, man; bridle thy foolish tongue! Did I not see the very cask on'tat Trencher Rob's? Did I not mark how your sallow cheek took on anashen complexion, when his Lordship's Secretary, a fortnight since,suddenly showed himself amongst the cedars upon the bank that overlooksyour door, when your ill luck would have you to be rolling the cask inopen day into thy cellar. The secretary was in a bookish mood, and sawthee not--or, peradventure, was kind, and would not heed."
To this direct testimony, Weasel could only reply by a faint-heartedand involuntary smile which surrendered the point, and left him in astate of silly confusion.
"Never droop in thy courage, worthy Weasel," exclaimed the Captain;"thou art as honest as thy betters; and, to my mind, the wine hath abetter smack from its overland journey from St. Jerome's when there wasno sun to heat it."
"The secretary," said the innkeeper, anxious to give the conversationanother direction, "is a worshipful youth, and a modest, and grows infavour with the townspeople."
"Ay, and is much beloved by his Lordship," added the Captain.
"And comes, I warrant me, of gentle kind, though I have not heard aughtof his country or friends. Dorothy, my wife, says that the women almostswear by him, for his quiet behaviour and pretty words--and they haveeyes, Captain Dauntrees, for excellence which we have not."
"There is a cloud upon his birth," said Dauntrees, "and a sorrowfultale touching his nurture. I had it from Burton, the master of the shipwho brought him with my Lord to the province."
"Indeed, Captain Dauntrees! you were ever quick to pick up knowledge.You have a full ear and a good memory."
"Drink, drink, comrades!" said the Captain. "We should not go drybecause the secretary hath had mishaps. If it please you, I will tellthe story, though I will not vouch for the truth of what I have only atsecond hand."
After the listeners had adjusted themselves in their chairs, Dauntreesproceeded.
"There was, in Yorkshire, a Major William Weatherby, who fought againstthe Parliament--I did not know him, for I was but a stripling at thetime--who, when King Charles was beheaded, went over and took servicewith the States General, and at Arnheim married a lady of the name ofVerheyden. Getting tired of the wars, he came back to England with hiswife, where they lived together five or six years without children. Thestory goes that he was a man of fierce and crooked temper; choleric,and unreasonable in his quarrel; and for jealousy, no devil everequalled him in that amiable virtue. It was said, too, that his livingwas riotous and unthrifty, which is, in part, the customary sin ofsoldiership.--I am frank with you, masters."
"You are a good judge, Captain; you have had experience," said thepublican.
"There was a man of some mark in the country where this Weatherbylived, a Sir George Alwin, who, taking pity on the unhappy lady, didher sundry acts of kindness--harmless acts, people say; such as you orI, neighbours, would be moved to do for a distressed female; but thelady was of rare beauty, and the husband full of foul fancies.
"About this time, it was unlucky that nature wrought a change, and thelady grew lusty for the first time in six years marriage. To make thestory short, Weatherby was free with his dagger, and in the street, atDoncaster, in the midst of a public show, he stabbed Alwin to theheart."
The wood ranger silently shook his head, and the publican opened hiswatery eyes in astonishment.
"By the aid of a fleet horse and private enemies of the murdered man,Weatherby escaped out of the kingdom, and was never afterwards heardof."
"And died like a dog, I s'pose," said Arnold de la Grange.
"Likely enough," replied Dauntrees.
"The poor lady was struck down with the horror of the deed, and hadnearly gone to her grave. But Heaven was kind, and she survive
d it, andwas relieved of her burden in the birth of a son. For some yearsafterwards, by the bounty of friends, but with many a struggle--for hermeans were scanty--she made shift to dwell in England. At last shereturned to Holland, where she found a resting place in her nativeearth, having lived long enough to see her son, a well grown lad,safely taken in charge by her brother, a merchant of Antwerp. Theparents were both attached to our Church of Rome, and the son was sentby his uncle to the Jesuit school of his own city. Misfortune overtookthe merchant, and he died before the nephew had reached his fourteenthyear. But the good priests of Antwerp tended the lad with the care ofparents, and would have reared him as a servant of the altar. When ourLord Baltimore was in the Netherlands, three years ago, he found AlbertVerheyden, (the youth has ever borne his mother's name,) in theSeminary. His Lordship took a liking to him and brought him into hisown service. Master Albert was then but eighteen. There is the wholestory. It is as dry as a muscat raisin. It sticks in the throat,masters,--so moisten, moisten!"
"It is a marvellous touching story," said the innkeeper, as heswallowed at a draught a full goblet.
"The hot hand and the cold steel," said Arnold, thoughtfully, "hold toomuch acquaintance in these times. Master Albert is an honest youth, anda good youth, and a brave follower too, of hawk or hound, CaptainDauntrees."
"Then there is good reason for a cup to the secretary," said theCaptain, filling again. "The world hath many arguments for a thirstyman. The blight of the year fall upon this sadness! Let us change ourdiscourse--I would carouse a little, friends: It is salutary to laugh.Thanks to my patron, I am a bachelor! So drink, Master Arnold, meinsauff bruder, as we used to say on the Rhine."
"Ich trinck, euch zu," was the reply of the forester, as he answeredthe challenge with a sparkling eye, and a face lit up with smiles; "agood lad, an excellent lad, though he come of a hot-brained father!"
The wine began to show itself upon the revellers; for by this time theyhad nearly got through half of the complement of the wager. The effectof this potation upon the Captain was to give him a more flushed brow,and a moister eye, and to administer somewhat to the volubility of histongue. It had wrought no further harm, for Dauntrees was bottle-proof.Upon the forester it was equally harmless, rather enhancing thandissipating his saturnine steadfastness of demeanour. He was,perchance, somewhat more precise and thoughtful. Garret Weasel, of thethree, was the only weak vessel. With every cup of the last half hourhe grew more supple.
"Ads heartlikens!" he exclaimed, "but this wine doth tingle, CaptainDauntrees. Here is a fig for my wife Dorothy! Come and go as youlist--none of your fetch and carry! that's what the world is coming to,amongst us married cattle!"
"Thou art a valorous tapster," said the Captain.
"I am the man to stand by his friend, Captain mine; and I am thyfriend, Captain--Papist or Roman though they call thee!"
"A man for need, Garret!" said Dauntrees, patting him on the head; "adozen flasks or so, when a friend wants them, come without the asking."
"And I pay my wagers, I warrant, Captain, like a true comrade."
"Like a prince, Garret, who does not stop to count the score, but makessure of the total by throwing in a handful over."
"I am no puritan, Master Dauntrees, I tell thee."
"Thou hast the port of a cavalier, good Weasel. Thou wouldst have donedeadly havoc amongst the round-heads, if they but took thee in the factof discharging a wager. Thou wert scarce in debt, after this fashion,at Worcester, my valiant drawer. Thy evil destiny kept thee empty onthat day."
"Ha, ha, ha! a shrewd memory for a stale jest, Captain Dauntrees. Theworld is slanderous, though I care little for it. You said you would bemerry; shall we not have a song? Come, troll us a catch, Captain."
"I am of thy humour, old madcap; I'll wag it with thee bravely,"replied Dauntrees, as he struck up a brisk drinking-bout glee of thatday, in which he was followed by the treble voice of the publican, whoat the same time rose from his seat and accompanied the music with someunsteady gyrations in the manner of a dance upon the gravel.
"From too much keeping an evil decorum, From the manifold treason parliamentorum, From Oliver Cromwell, dux omnium malorum,
Libera nos, Libera nos."
Whilst Dauntrees and his gossips were thus occupied in their carouse,they were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of two well knownpersons, who had approached by the path of the postern gate.
The elder of the two was a youth just on the verge of manhood. Hisperson was slender, well proportioned, and rather over the commonheight. His face, distinguished by a decided outline of beauty, wore athoughtful expression, which was scarcely overcome by the flash of ablack and brilliant eye. A complexion pale and even feminine, betokenedstudious habits. His dress, remarkable for its neatness, denoted abecoming pride of appearance in the wearer. It told of the LowCountries. A well-fitted doublet and hose, of a grave colour, werepartially concealed by a short camlet cloak of Vandyke brown. A blackcap and feather, a profusion of dark hair hanging in curls towards theshoulders, and a falling band or collar of lace, left it unquestionablethat the individual I have sketched was of gentle nurture, andassociated with persons of rank. This was further manifested in the gayand somewhat gaudy apparel of his companion,--a lad of fourteen, whowalked beside him in the profusely decorated costume of a young nobleof that ambitious era, when the thoughtless and merry monarch ofEngland, instead of giving himself to the cares of government, was busyto invent extravagancies of dress. The lad was handsome, though hisfeatures wore the impress of feeble health. He now bore in his hand abow and sheaf of arrows.
The visiters had taken our revellers at unawares, and had advancedwithin a few feet before they were observed. The back of the publicanwas turned to them, and he was now in mid career of his dance, throwingup his elbows, tossing his head, and treading daintily upon the earth,as he sang the burden,
"Libera nos, libera nos."
"You give care a holiday, Captain Dauntrees," said the elder youth,with a slightly perceptible foreign accent.
Dauntrees started abruptly from his seat, at this accost, smiled with areddened brow, and made a low obeisance. The cessation of the song leftGarret Weasel what a mariner would term "high and dry," for like a barkfloated upon a beach and suddenly bereft of its element, he remainedfixed in the attitude at which the music deserted him,--one footraised, an arm extended, and his face turned inquiringly over hisshoulder. His amazement upon discovering the cause of thisinterruption, brought about a sudden and ludicrous affectation ofsobriety; in an instant his port was changed into one of deference,although somewhat awkwardly overcharged with what was intended torepresent gravity and decorum.
Arnold de la Grange rose from his chair and stood erect, firm andsilent.
"Hail, Master Albert Verheyden, and Master Benedict Leonard: God saveyou both!" said Dauntrees.
"I say amen to that, and God save his lordship, besides!" ejaculatedthe publican with a drunken formality of utterance.
"I would not disturb your merriment, friends," said the secretary, "buthis lordship bade me summon Captain Dauntrees to the hall. You, Arnoldde la Grange, will be pleased to accompany the Captain."
Arnold bowed his head, and the visiters retired by the great gate ofthe fort. In a moment young Benedict Leonard came running back, andaddressed the forester--
"Master Arnold, I would have a new bow-string--this is worn; and mybird-bolts want feathering: shall I leave them with you, good Arnold?"And without waiting an answer, he thrust the bow and arrows into thesmiling wood-ranger's hand, and bounded away again through the gate.
Dauntrees flung his sword-belt across his shoulder, put on his cloak,delayed a moment to secure the remaining flasks of wine, and thenbeckoned to the ranger to follow him.
"Stop," cried Weasel, with an officious zeal to make himself useful;"your belt is awry: it is not comely to be seen by his lordship in thisslovenly array."
The belt was set right, and the two directed their steps toward
s thepostern, and thence to the mansion. The publican tarried only until hiscompanions were out of sight, when, curious to know the object of theerrand, and careful to avoid the appearance of intrusion, he followedupon the same path, at a respectful distance,--stepping wisely, as adrunken man is wont, and full of the opinion that his sobriety wasabove all suspicion.
Rob of the Bowl: A Legend of St. Inigoe's. Vol. 1 (of 2) Page 3
