Sea-Dogs All!

by Tom Bevan

  Chapter VIII.

  MASTER WINDYBANK WALKS ABROAD.

  A month came and went, and during that time the stir of apprehensiondied down in the forest. Men pursued their wonted occupations, by theriver, in the greenwood and the mines, without let or hindrance. Nightwas as untroubled as the day; the dreaded men in black appeared nomore. Wayfarer and forester forgot to scan bush and bracken for thedeadly and cadaverous form of Basil. Simple, honest souls believedthat the admiral's council at Newnham, and the measures of defenceadopted thereat, had shown the emissaries of King Philip how impossiblewas their wild enterprise.

  "Verily," said they, "the villains have gotten a fright, and are goneback to their rascally master."

  Which opinion did credit to the clean-souled fellows who uttered it,and a glaring injustice to the cunning knaves who had caused such afearful commotion amongst them. And all the while the plotters hadsecret harbourage at Dean Tower, coming and going by stealth and in thedarkness, avoiding all men, playing no bogy tricks, but maturing theirplans.

  Andrew Windybank had lived the wretchedest month of his life. Amountain of care bowed him down, and fear, rage, jealousy, and woundedpride gnawed unceasingly at his heart. He knew that he was a suspectedperson: his neighbours shunned him; many of his servants anddependants, by sidelong looks and spying ways, showed that theymistrusted him. Within a week of the time when Father Jerome and histwo lieutenants quartered themselves upon him, the young master of DeanTower went about with pale face and bowed head, ashamed to meet theeyes of a passer-by; and all the time wild anger surged up in hisheart, equally against those whose tool he was and against those whostepped aside with a shrug to let him pass. He suffered all theagonies that come upon weak natures that fall into temptation orsuccumb to evil influences. He dreaded the power of the Church ofRome; he shivered as he thought of the terrors of England's lawsagainst traitors. He loved his country in a way, and he was proud ofher; yet, having done nothing to merit the applause of hisfellow-countrymen, he was maliciously envious of those who had risen toemergencies, or deliberately planned great deeds, and thus wonthemselves fame. He loved Mistress Dorothy, and he felt that, if shewould only love him, he could be brave and noble; yet he hated theeasy-going, simple-hearted Johnnie Morgan, who had made himself apopular idol, and was marked out by the gossips as the fittest andproperest husband for pretty Mistress Dawe. Master Windybank could nothelp but admire the valiant admiral, and he remembered how he hadflushed with pleasure when Drake had taken him by the hand on theoccasion of their introduction. He hated and feared Father Jerome: buthe was aiding his schemes, and endeavouring to frustrate those of thegallant sailor whom he honoured.

  As the days wore on, unceasing fears began to torture him. Did any oneknow of his treason? One aged servitor only had been admitted into thesecret of the unwelcome guests in the Tower, and the honest veteran hadgone straightway upon his knees and besought his young master to castthem out. Of the Romish faith himself, he would have no hand in plotsagainst his lawful Queen, and no truckling to the cruel bigot who satupon the throne of Spain. But love of his master brought him into thesnare, and made him an unwilling tool of the conspirators. Both fearand affection lead men to belie their better selves.

  After a month of what was almost seclusion, Andrew Windybank determinedto spend a morning by the river. He walked into Newnham, and made hisway to the ferry to watch the tide race up the river. Men, horses, anddogs were coming across from Arlingham, as the verderers of the foresthad a great hunt fixed for that very day. Windybank, as a verderer,should have remembered this, but weightier matters had driven it fromhis mind.

  There was plenty of bustle at the ferry; men were shouting, horses wereneighing, and hounds were baying. The townsfolk had come down towelcome their friends from the other side, but no Newnham manapproached the master of Dean Tower. There was some whispering, somefurtive glancing in his direction, and the Arlingham folk cut him ascompletely as did those of Newnham.

  With his heart full of rage and malice, the young gentleman turned onhis heel and strode off up the street. He held his head defiantlyerect, and he gave scorn for scorn and shrug for shrug. From the openwindow of "Ye Whyte Beare" a jolly, rolling peal of laughter told himthat young Morgan was within, and two boar-hounds tethered to thedoorpost proclaimed that the Blakeney yeoman purposed hunting othergame than the timid deer that day.

  Higher up the street the angry man encountered a group of dark-haired,sallow-faced miners who were taking a holiday, and a hiss of "Papist!papist!" greeted him as he passed. His hand went to the hilt of hisdagger, but the fellows flourished their oaken cudgels within an inchof his nose; so he contented himself with a counter hiss of "Insolentdogs!" and went on.

  Resolved to face his foes, Master Andrew walked the whole length of thehigh street, although the road to Littledean branched off about halfwayup. This meant that he must pass Captain Dawe's cottage, which daintyhabitation he had not looked upon since the morning when his wooing hadbeen interrupted by the coming of his wounded rival. The angry colourfled from his face, and his head sank lower and lower as he neared theplace. The sound of Dorothy's voice in the garden unnerved himcompletely; shame swept over him like the swift river-tide that stillroared in his ears, his chin fell on his breast, and a ghastly pallorwhitened his cheeks. A sob broke from him as he bent low and hurriedby. He did not dare to snatch even a glimpse of the scene beyond thehedge.

  But he heard his name called in quick but quiet tones, "MasterWindybank! Master Windybank!" His heart almost ceased beating. Theshock of detection made him pause for an instant, and that brief spaceof time brought Dorothy into view. He would not run, but turnedtowards her, throbbing with the panting fears of a creature brought tobay. The wild light in his eyes was quenched when he saw the kindlyglow in the blue orbs of the maiden. She put out her hand.

  "Thou art almost a stranger," she said.

  The youth's dry lips could frame no answer, nor did he take theproffered hand. Kindly concern, where he had expected contempt andreproach, completely unnerved him. Dorothy's hand was still held out,and her eyes grew kinder as he looked into them. He took the daintyfingers in his trembling hand and pressed them to his hot, dry lips.Dorothy had almost the sensation of a burn, and she winced. Windybanktook the movement as a repulse, and threw the hand from him.

  "Art thou going to torture me too?" he cried harshly. "Why do you allhate me so?"

  "Hate!" echoed Dorothy. "La! Master Windybank."

  "I am shunned like a leper," he went on. "Shall I get me into a sheet,carry a bell, and cry 'Unclean! unclean!' as I walk the roads?"

  "But I do neither hate thee nor shun thee, else I had not called tothee. 'Tis thou dost make a hermit of thyself. And thou art ill andfevered," she added compassionately; "thou art wasted well-nigh to ashadow."

  "I have no rest, no peace," he groaned. "I am scorned of myneighbours, spied upon, suspected, insulted. Do ye all think I have noheart to feel these things, no spirit to resent them? But I can returnhate for hate, injury for injury. Let some men look to themselves!"

  His tones were so fierce that Dorothy quailed. She recovered herselfquickly.

  "Come into the garden," she said.

  "I cannot come where I am not welcome."

  "I am asking thee."

  "I shall not come."

  "Then must I come to thee."

  Suiting action to the words, the maiden hurried through the gate, andin a minute more Windybank was sitting beside her in the arbour.

  Now Mistress Dorothy was a maiden very prone to act upon impulse. Shewould do a thing, and then, after accomplishment, consider the action,and ofttimes repent. She had never entertained any very great likingfor Master Andrew, although her father had at one time made much of himand favoured him as an acceptable suitor for his daughter's hand. Butthe fact that the young gentleman was in serious disgrace, and spokenill of by those who smoked their pipes and sipped their ale around thecaptain's table, so
ftened her heart towards him. Ugly clouds ofsuspicion hung over him, and men said bitter things concerning him; butto Dorothy's mind the alleged treason seemed impossible. The accusedman, she would argue, was a gentleman and a forester; he had sat at herfather's board, he had spoken of love to her: such a one could not be atraitor; she would not condemn him unheard. But she had resolved toput him upon trial if opportunity offered. The opportunity had come,and, believing in his innocence, she seized upon it.

  Dorothy went straight to her task without bush-beating. She toldMaster Andrew very plainly what men were saying about him, and then sheasked him some blunt and awkward questions. Windybank was cunning; hesaw that in Dorothy he had a friend and a ready champion. To answerher questions truthfully was to forfeit her good opinion and turn herliking into loathing. He determined to fence.

  The maiden would have none of it. "I must have plain answer to plainquestion!" she cried.

  So Master Windybank gave answers that appeared stamped with the mark oftruth. He assumed the indignation of a wronged innocent, and spoutedwith some heat a torrent of lies and cunning half-truths.

  It was all very cleverly done, especially the contrite confessionsconcerning interviews with Father Jerome and his brother-conspirators.He acknowledged that men had had some cause to suspect him. "But,"exclaimed he, "a man should not be written down a criminal because someone asks him to commit a villainy. All of us are liable to temptation!"

  "Truly spoken!" said Dorothy. "However, we must not parley with thetempter, but flee from him."

  "That is not easy," answered Andrew, "for these men steal about likevery wolves. They spring into one's path when least expected. It isimpossible to avoid them."

  Dorothy tapped her companion's sword. "Thou art armed," she said, "andso are they. What shouldst thou do when an avowed enemy of the Queencrosses thy path actually engaged in evil-doing?"

  Windybank gulped. "Cut him down," he replied.

  "Exactly!" Dorothy arose and held out her hand.

  "I expect to hear that a gentleman and a forester has done his duty tohis Queen, himself, and his friends."

  The master of Dean Tower bowed, murmured some words of loyalty anddevotion, and then took his leave. He went the longest way home,avoiding all frequented ways near which Basil might be lurking.Loyalty and treason, lodged in his heart, fought a dire fight, and,thanks to the vision of a pretty face, treason was rather badly wounded.