Rob of the Bowl: A Legend of St. Inigoe's. Vol. 1 (of 2)

by John Pendleton Kennedy

  CHAPTER XVII.

  Some do call me Jack, sweetheart, And some do call me Jille: But when I come to the king's faire courte, They call me Wilfulle Wille.

  THE KNIGHT AND SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER.

  The Skipper's necessary affairs in the port engaged him all the daysucceeding that of his interview with father Pierre, and thereforeprevented him from making his intended visit to the Cripple of St.Jerome's. When the next morning broke upon him, the early bell of St.Mary's Chapel informed him of the Sabbath,--a day seldom distinguishedin his calendar from the rest of the week. It was, however, notunheeded now, as it suggested the thought that an opportunity might beafforded him to gain a sight of Blanche Warden--and even, perchance aninterview--at the service of the Chapel. In this hope he at oncerelinquished his design of going to St. Jerome's, at least until afterthe morning offices of the church were performed. Accordingly, at anhour somewhat in advance of the general attendance of the congregation,the Skipper was seen loitering in the purlieus of the Chapel, where hemarked with an inquisitive but cautious watchfulness the various groupsthat were coming to their devotions. When at length his strained visionwas able to descry a cavalcade approaching from the direction of St.Inigoe's, and he discerned the figures of Albert Verheyden and BlancheWarden dallying far in the rear of the Collector and his daughterAlice, their horses almost at a walk, and themselves manifestlyengrossed in an earnest conference, he turned hastily towards thechurch and with a compressed lip and knitted brow, ascended the stairand threw himself into an obscure corner of the little gallery whichlooked upon the altar. Here he remained a sullen and concealed observerof the rites of the temple,--his bosom rankling with uncharitablethoughts, and his countenance clouded with feelings the most ungenialto the lowly self-abasement and contrition of heart which breathed inevery word of the solemn ritual that addressed his ear.

  The Collector's family entered the place of worship. The Secretarystill accompanied Blanche, knelt beside her in prayer, opened hermissal to the various services of the day, and tendered the customaryoffices of familiar gallantry common to such an occasion, with anunrebuked freedom: all this in the view of the Skipper, whose eyeflashed with a vengeful fire, as he gazed upon the man to whom heattributed the wrong he deemed himself to have suffered in his recentinterview with the maiden. The service ended and the throng wasretiring, when Cocklescraft planted himself on the outside of the door.His purpose was to exchange even but a word with the daughter of theCollector--at least to win a recognition of his presence by a smile, anod, the smallest courtesy,--so dear to the heart of a lover. She cameat last, loiteringly with father Pierre and Albert Verheyden. Perhapsshe did not see Cocklescraft in the shade of the big elm, even althoughher father's weaker sight had recognised him, and the old man hadstepped aside to shake his hand. She passed on to her horse withoutonce turning her head towards him. The Skipper abruptly sprang from theCollector to help her into her saddle, but Blanche had already Albert'shand, and in a moment was in her seat. Cocklescraft's proffered servicewas acknowledged by a bow and only a casual word. The Secretary in aninstant mounted his steed, and, with the maiden, set forth on theirride at a brisk gallop. The Brother of the Coast forgetful of his usualcircumspection, stood with folded arms and moody visage, looking darklyupon them as they disappeared, and muttering half-audible ejaculationsof wrath. He was, after an interval, roused from his abstraction by thehand of father Pierre gently laid upon his shoulder:

  "You have forgotten the censer of virgin silver, you promised to offerat this shrine," said the priest in a grave voice. "It was to be anoffering for the sin of a wayward spirit of anger. Beware, son, thatthou dost no wrong to a brother."

  "I have not forgotten the censer, holy father," returned the Skipper,with an ineffectual effort to assume his usual equanimity. "I have onlydeferred the offering--until I may give it," he added in a sternvoice--"with an honest conscience. Thou shalt have it anon. I havebusiness now that stands in the way:--good morning to you, father." Andwith these words he walked rapidly away.

  In the afternoon Cocklescraft was seen plying his way from the quay ina small boat, attended by two seamen who rowed him to a point some fiveor six miles below the town, where he landed, and set out on foot forSt. Jerome's.

  On the following morning, whilst the dawn yet cast its grey hue overthe face of the land, two men, in shaggy frize dresses, arrived at thehut of the Cripple. They rode on rough, little beach-ponies, eachprovided with a sack. The mastiff bitch eyed the visiters with a malignaspect from her station beneath the door sill, and by her lowmutterings warned them against a too near approach. They accordinglystood at bay.

  "Curse on the slut!" said one; "she has the eye of a very devil;--itmight not be safe to defy her. Not a mouse is stirring:--the oldTrencherman is as still as his bowl. Were it safe, think you, to wakehim?"

  "Why not?" demanded the other. "He will be in a passion, and threaten,at first, with his weapon;--but when he knows we come to trade withhim, I will warrant he butters his wrinkles as smoothly with a smile asyou could desire. Strike your staff, Nichol, against the door."

  "The fiend fetch me, if I venture so near as to strike, with that bitchat the step. Try it thyself, Perry Cadger."

  "Nay, and it comes to that, I will rouse him in another fashion," saidthe other.

  "Master Swale--Master Robert Swale--Halloo--halloo!"

  "Rob, man, awake,--turn out for thy friends!" exclaimed the first. Thegrowl of the mastiff bitch was now changed into a hoarse bark. Somestir was heard from the inside of the hut, and, in a moment afterwards,the door was unbolted and brought sufficiently open to allow theuncouth head and half dressed figure of the Cripple to be seen. A shortblunderbuss was levelled directly in the face of the visiters, whilstan ungracious repulse was screamed out in a voice husky with rage.

  "Begone, you misbegotten thieves! What makes you here? Do you think Iam an ale draper to take in every strolling runagate of the night.Begone, or by my body, I will baptize you with a sprinkling of lead!"

  "In God's name, Robert Swale," exclaimed the first speaker, "turn thyweapon aslant! Thou mayst do a deed of mischief upon thy friends. Weare Nichol Upstake, and Peregrine Cadger--friends, Rob,--friends, whohave come to drive bargains to thy profit. Open your eyes, Master--puton your glasses--we have gold in pocket, man."

  "Ha, ha, ha!" chuckled the tenant of the hut; "thou art astir, cronies!Ha, ha! I took ye for land loupers--sharks. By the Five Wounds, I knewye not! Have patience a space and I will open."

  When the Cripple had dressed himself he came swinging forth in hisbowl, and passing beyond the curtilage of his dwelling went to thebeach, whither he was followed by his two visiters who had nowdismounted from their ponies. Here he halted, and taking off his cap,exposed his bare head and loose white tresses to the morning breezewhich came somewhat sharply from the water.

  "Soh!" he exclaimed, "there is refreshment in that! It is my custom toexpel these night-cap vapours with the good salt water breeze: that isa commodity that may reach the province without paying duty to hisLordship! a cheap physic, a cheap physic, masters. Now what scent artthou upon, Nichol Upstake? Perry Cadger, man of sarsnet and grogram, Iguess thy errand."

  "In truth, Robert Swale," said Upstake----

  "No Robert Swale, nor Master Robert Swale," testily interrupted theowner of the cabin: "none of your worshipful phrase for me! Thou artbut a shallow hypocrite to affect this reverence. Rob of the Bowl isthe best I get from you when your longings are satisfied; ay, and it issaid with a curl of your lip; and you make merry over my unworthinesswith your pot-fellows. So, be honest, and give me plain Rob; I seek noflattery."

  "You do us wrong, good Master Rob," interposed Peregrine Cadger----

  "To your needs," said Rob, sternly: "Speak in the way of your trade!You have no voice, nor I ear for aught else."

  "Then, in brief," said Nichol Upstake, "I would fain know if you couldsupply me with Antigua to-day, or aqua vitae, I care not which?"

  "If s
uch a thing might be, where wouldst thou take it, Nichol?"inquired Rob.

  "To Warrington on the Cliffs."

  "Ay, to Warrington on the Cliffs; good!--and warily to be borne? nohawk's eye upon thy path?"

  "It shall be by night, if you like it," said the dealer.

  "Well, well!" replied the Cripple; "I can give you a little of both,master: a flagon or so; some three or four. My hut is small, and hath ascant cellar. But the money in hand, Nichol Upstake! Good gold--fullweight--and a fair price, too, mark you! I must have a trifle above mylast market--ten shillings the gallon on the brandy, and two more forthe Antigua. Leave thy kegs, and see me again at sunset. The money inhand! the money in hand! there is no trust in my commonwealth."

  "It shall be so," said Nichol.

  "And now, Master Cadger, what wilt? You have a scheme to cozen dame andwench with gewgaws; I see it in thine eye: and you will swear upon bookand cross, if need be, they have stood you a wondrous hard purchase,even at the full three hundred per cent. excess you purpose to exactabove the cost; and all the while it has come out of Rob's warehouse ascheap as beggars' alms: Ha, ha, ha! This world thrives on honesty! itgrows fat on virtue! knavery only starves! Your rogue in rags, whathath he but his deserts! Let him repent and turn virtuous, like you andme, Perry, and his torn cloak and threadbare doublet shall be fencedand lined to defy all weathers. Hark ye, master, I have camblets,satins, and velvets, cambric, and lawn for thee--choice commoditiesall. Thou shalt see them in the hut."

  "How came you by so rich an inventory, Rob?"

  The Cripple turned a fierce eye upon the mercer, and with one glanceconveyed his meaning, as he touched the handle of his dagger and saidin a low tone,

  "Dost forget the covenant between us? Peregrine Cadger you know I brookno such question."

  The mercer stood for a moment abashed, and then replied: "An idle word,Master Rob, which meant no harm: as you say, honesty will only thrive.You shall find never a knave that is not some part fool. I will intothe hut to look at the wares."

  "Do so," said the Cripple. "You will find them in the box behind thedoor. There is need that you leave me, so follow him, Nichol. I havesudden business, masters, which it does not concern you to witness.When you have seen what you desire, depart quickly; leave your sacksand come back at sunset. I charge you, have a care that your eyes donot wander towards my motions. You know me, and know that I havesentinels upon your steps who have power to sear your eye-balls if youbut steal one forbidden glance: away!"

  The dealers withdrew into the hut, wondering at the abrupt terminationof their interview, and implicitly confiding in the power of theCripple to make good his threat.

  "The Lord have mercy upon us!" said the mercer, in a smothered voice,after they had entered the door; "the Cripple hath matters on handwhich it were not for our good to pry into. Pray you, Nichol, let usmake our survey and do his bidding, by setting forth at once. I am notthe man to give him offence."

  The cause of this unexpected dismissal of the visiters was theapparition of Cocklescraft, whose figure, in the doubtful light of themorning, was seen by Rob at a distance, on the profile of the bank inthe neighbourhood of the Wizard's Chapel. He had halted upon observingthe Cripple in company with strangers, and had made a signal which wassufficiently intelligible to the person to whom it was addressed, toexplain his wish to meet him.

  Rob, having thus promptly rid himself of his company, now swung on hisshort crutches, almost as rapidly as a good walker could have got overthe ground, towards the spot where the Buccaneer had halted.

  "Steer your cockleshell there to the right, old worm!" said theFreebooter, as Rob came opposite to the bank on which he stood. "Youshall find it easier to come up by the hollow."

  "The plagues of a foul conscience light on thee!" replied the Cripple,desisting from farther motion, and wiping the perspiration from hisbrow. "Is it more seemly I should waste my strength on the fruitlesslabour to clamber up that rough slope, or thou come down to me? Youmock me, sirrah!" he added, with an expression of sudden anger; "Thouknow'st I cannot mount the bank."

  "Thou know'st I can drag thee up, reverend fragment of a sinful man!"returned Cocklescraft, jocularly; "yes, and with all thy pack of evilpassions at thy back, besides. Would you hold our meeting in sight fromthe window of the hut, where you have just lodged a pair of your busymeddlers--your bumpkin cronies in the way of trade? It was such asthese that, but a few nights ago, set his Lordship's hounds upon ourtracks. Come up, man, without farther parley."

  The Cripple's fleeting anger changed, as usual, to that bitter smileand chuckle with which he was wont to return into a tractable mood, ashe said,--

  "A provident rogue! a shrewd imp! He has his instinct of mischief sokeen that his forecast never sleepeth. The devil hath made him aperfect scholar. There, Dickon, give me thy hand," he added, when hecame to the steep ascent which his machine of locomotion was utterlyinadequate to surmount. "Give me thy hand, good cut-throat. Help me tothe top."

  The muscular seaman, instead of extending his hand to his companion,descended the bank, and taking the bowl and its occupant upon hisshoulder, strode upward to the even ground, and deposited his load withas little apparent effort as if he had been dealing with a truss ofhay.

  "Bravely!" ejaculated Rob, when he was set down. "I scarce could havedone better in my best day. Now, what set thee to jogging so early,Dickon? Where dost thou come from?"

  "From the Chapel," replied the other. "I came there from the Port lastnight, express to see you; and having no special favour for the bed Islept on, I left it at the first streak of light to go and rouse youfrom your dreams, and lo! there you are at one of your dog and wolfbargains with the country side clowns."

  "Discreet knaves, Dickon, who have come to ease us of somewhat of ourcharge of contraband: stout jerkins--stout and well lined; rogues ofsubstance--Nichol Upstake, the ordinary keeper of Warrington, and PerryCadger, the mercer of St. Mary's. Seeing thee here, I dismissed themuntil sunset. That Peregrine Cadger is somewhat leaky as a gossip, andmight tell tales if he were aware that I consorted with you."

  "I see them taking the road on their ponies," said Cocklescraft; "wemay venture to the hut. I am sharp set for breakfast, and when I have acontented stomach, I will hold discourse with you, Rob, touchingmatters of some concern to us both."

  The Cripple and his guest, upon this hint, repaired to the hut, and indue time the morning meal was supplied and despatched. Cocklescraftthen opened the purport of his visit.

  "Has it ever come into your wise brain, Master Rob," he asked, "thatyou are getting somewhat old; and that it might behoove you to make ashrift at the confessional, by way of settling your account? I take it,it will not be a very clean reckoning without a good swashing penance."

  "How now, thou malignant kite!" exclaimed the Cripple; "what's in thewind?"

  "Simply, Rob, that the time has come when, peradventure, we must part.I am tired of this wicked life. I shall amend; and I come to counselyou to the like virtuous resolution. I will be married, Robert Swale,Man of the Bowl!"

  "Grammercy! thou wilt be married! thou! I spit upon thee for a fool.What crotchet is this?"

  "I will be married, as I say, neither more nor less. Now to what wench,ask you? Why to the very fairest and primest flower of thisprovince--the Rose of St. Mary's--the Collector's own daughter. I markthat devil's sneer of unbelief of yours, old buckler man: truer wordwas never spoke by son of the sea or land, than I speak now."

  "To the Collector's daughter!" ejaculated the Cripple, in a tone ofderision. "Thy carriage is bold in the Port, but no measure of audacitywill ever bring thee to that favour. Would'st thou play at thine oldgame, and sack the town, and take the daintiest in it for ransom? Youknow no other trick of wooing, Dickon."

  "By my hand, Rob, I am specially besought by the Collector to make oneat a choice merry-making which his daughter has on foot for nextThursday. Ay, and I am going, on his set command, to dance a gailliardwith Mistress Blanche. Oh, she shall be the very
bird of the sea--thegirl of the billow, Rob! She shall be empress of the green wave thatnursed me, and the blue sky, and the wide waste. Her throne shall be onthe deck of my gay bark: and my merry men shall spring at her beck asdeftly as at the boatswain's pipe!"

  "You shall sooner meet your deservings," said Rob, "on the foal of theacorn, with a hempen string, than find grace with the Collector'schild. Thy whole life has been adversary to the good will of thefather."

  "I know it," replied Cocklescraft. "I was born in natural warfare withthe customs and all who gather them; the more praise for my exploit! Ishall change my ways and forsake evil company. I shall be a man ofworship. We shall shut up the Chapel, Rob; expel our devils; pack offour witches to Norway, and establish an honest vocation. Therefore,Rob, go to father Pierre; repent of your misdeeds, and live upon yourpast gains. You are rich and may afford to entertain henceforth areputable conscience."

  "Do not palter with me, sirrah! but tell me what this imports."

  "Then truly, Rob, I am much disturbed in my fancies. I love the wench,and mean to have her--fairly if I can--but after the fashion of theCoast if I must. She doth not consent as yet--mainly because she hath atoy of delight in that silken Secretary of my Lord--a bookishpale-cheeked, sickly strummer of stringed instruments--one MasterVerheyden, I think they call him."

  "Ha!" exclaimed the Cripple, as a frown gathered on his brow; "what ishe? Whence comes he?"

  "His Lordship's chamber secretary," replied Cocklescraft; "broughthither I know not when nor whence. A silent-paced, priestly pattern ofmodesty, who feeds on the favour of his betters, as a lady's dog, thatbeing allowed to lick the hand of his mistress, takes the privilege tosnarl on all who approach her. I shall make light work with him bywhipping him out of my way. Why are you angry, that you scowl so,Master Rob?"

  "I needs must be angry to see thee make a fool of thyself," replied themaster of the hut. "Verheyden--his Lordship's secretary!" he mutteredto himself. "No, no! it would be a folly to think it."

  "Mutter as you will, Rob," said Cocklescraft; "by St. Iago, I will tryconclusions with the Secretary--folly or no folly! He hath taught themaiden," he added, with a bitter emphasis, "to affect a scorn for me,and he shall smart for it."

  "Ha! thy spirit is ever for undoing!" exclaimed Rob, suddenly changinghis mood, and forcing a harsh laugh of derision. "Mischief is yourproper element--your food, your repose, your luxury. Well, if thouneedst must take on a new life, and strive to be worshipful, I wouldcounsel thee to begin it with some deed of charity, not strife. I hadas well make my lecture to a young wolf! Ha, Dickon, thou wilt be aprospering pupil to the master that teaches thee the virtue of charity!Such rede will be welcome to thee as water to thy shoes! I have scannedthee in all thy humours!"

  "I spurn upon your advice, and will not be scorned, old man!" saidCocklescraft, angrily. "The maiden shall be mine, though I pluck herfrom beneath her father's blazing roof-tree; and then farewell to theprovince, and to thee! Mark you that! I come not to be taunted with thyill-favoured speech! My men shall be withdrawn from the Chapel. I willput them on worthier service than to minister to thy greediness."

  "Hot-brained, silly idiot--thou drivelling fool!" shouted Rob. "Dostthou not know that I can put thee in the dust and trample on thee as acaitiff? that I can drive thee from the province as a vile outlaw? Artthou such a dizzard as to tempt my anger? If you would thrive even inyour villanous wooing, have a care not to provoke my displeasure! Oneword from me, and not a man paces thy deck: thou goest abroadunattended, stiverless--a fugitive, with hue and cry at thy heels. Howdar'st thou reprove me, boy?"

  "Thy hand, Rob," said Cocklescraft, relenting. "You say no more than myfolly warrants; I am a wanton fool: your pardon--let there be peacebetween us."

  "Art reasonable again? Bravely confessed, Dickon! I forgive thy rashspeech. Now go thy ways, and the Foul One speed thee! I have naught tocounsel, either for strife or peace, since thou hast neither wit,wisdom, nor patience for sober advice against the current of thy will.It will not be long before this maimed trunk shall sink into itsnatural resting place--and it matters not to me how my remnant of timebe spent--whether in hoarding or keeping. The world will find me anheir to squander what little store it hath pleased my fortune togather. So go thy ways!"

  "I will see you again, friend Rob," said the Buccaneer. "I have matterto look after at the Chapel, and then shall get back to the Port, todrive my suit to a speedy issue. I came here but in honest dealing withyou, to give you friendly notice of my design, and, perchance, to getyour aid. You have no counsel for me? It is well; my own head and armshall befriend me; they have stood me in stead in straits more doubtfulthan this: farewell--farewell!"

  As the Skipper stepped along the beach, Rob planted himself in the doorof the hut and looked after him for some moments, nodding his headsignificantly towards him, and muttering in a cynical undertone, "Gothy ways, snake of the sea, spawn of a water devil! Thou married! ha,ha! Thy lady gay shall have a sweetened cup in thee: and thy wooingshall be tender and gentle--yea, as the appetite of the sword-fish. Itshall be festival wooing--all in the light--in the light--of thebride's own blazing roof: a dainty wolf! a most tractable shark! Oh, Icannot choose but laugh!"

  END OF VOLUME I.