by Tom Bevan
Chapter XI.
DARKNESS AND THE RIVER.
The hunt and its incidents were three days old.
Johnnie Morgan had been to Newnham, and had spent a whole afternoon inDorothy's company. Not once had she snubbed him or even contradictedhim. Johnnie was home again, quietly happy. There was a battle of witand song fixed for the night at the local tavern; several "jolly dogs"had waylaid the young farmer and tried to drag him off for an evening'srevelry, but he would have none of it. The sun was going down over thehills, and Johnnie sat in his parlour and watched it. His chair wastilted back against the heavy table, and his feet were on thewindow-ledge half shrouded in flowers. He stared at the rosy sky anddreamed dreams of the same colour.
Johnnie heard quick footsteps coming up to the porch, and immediatelyafterwards there was a lusty banging at the door.
"Plague take 'em!" exclaimed the contemplative youth; "I'll not go."
A little, dark-haired maiden, who, with her mother, formed the whole ofthe farmer's domestic establishment, came into the room.
"The admiral's man would speak with you, master," she said.
Johnnie's feet were on the floor in an instant. "Show him in," hecried.
A weather-beaten Devon man, sailor to his finger-tips, rolled into theroom. The two men gripped hands.
"At last?" asked Johnnie in a low tone.
"At last!" was the reply. "Gatcombe jetty at nightfall, and wellarmed."
"I'll be there."
Without further words the messenger turned about and went elsewhere onhis errand. Morgan at once got out his sword, put on a thick leatherndoublet and boots reaching to his thighs. Then, well knowing that hemight be setting out on an all-night expedition, he proceeded to eat ahasty but hearty supper.
At the appointed time he stood with about a dozen others on theriver-bank. The tide was about at half-flow and running strongly;moreover, a breeze was coming up behind it from the south-west. Therewas no moon, clouds were packing, and there was every sign of apitch-dark night. The admiral's roomy boat, with its mast stepped andsail ready for hoisting, bobbed up and down on the water. Drakehimself was there to receive his men.
"A rare night on the river for fish poachers, smugglers, and othernefarious rascals," said he.
"True, admiral," answered a Gatcombe pilot; "and I trow we shall findit trying work looking for black men on a black night."
"Well spoken, master pilot; but if thou canst keep our lives free ofdanger from shoal and sandbank, we'll e'en try to do the rest."
"I'll warrant ye safe passage anywhere 'twixt Chepstow and Gloucester,Sir Francis."
"I ask no more.--Now, gentlemen, aboard!"
In silence the chosen band seated themselves. "Take the tiller, pilot;I myself will attend to the sail. Do thou, Master Morgan, seat thyselfin the bow and maintain a sharp lookout; thine eyes are younger thanmine, and more used to the lights of the river." The anchor was liftedin, and immediately the boat swung round into the path of the racingwaters. "Make for the other side," ordered Drake, "and lay to in thebackwater under the bank."
A few deft strokes of the oars carried the boat into the rush of thetide; for an instant it hung wavering, and then shot off like an arrowup and across the roaring river. Then followed a few minutes ofintense excitement. The little craft rocked and swayed, and rose andfell, tossed like a cork on the turbid waters. Morgan could scarcelysee a hand's-breadth before him. The rudder creaked as the pilot movedit to and fro, and only his voice was heard as, very softly, he orderedone oarsman after another to pull or back-water in order to hold thecourse safely between the shallows and avoid the shifting sands, whosepresence, in the darkness, no eye could descry. Morgan was kneeling inthe bow, a stout pole in his hands; only once was he called upon to useit, when the nose of the boat went crunching along the slope of asandbank for a few yards. At length came the welcome order, "Easyall!" A minute later the boat was riding on an even keel under thebank, rising and falling in rhythm with the suck and lap of the wateras it devoured the soft, red-brown walls that shut it in. The heads ofthe men were on a level with the strip of turf that formed the land'smargin. Fifty yards back was the outer edge of a belt of dark woodthat covered the flat lands and swept up the sides of the hills thatlay off ten or twelve miles to the east. Against such a backgroundnothing would be visible in the darkness. Across on the Gatcombe sidewere the steep sandstone cliffs, storm-washed and clean, and toppedwith primeval forest.
"Master Morgan," said Drake, "how far out in the stream must we lie inorder that thou mayest distinguish the sail or hull of a ten-ton craftagainst the cliff face?"
"I can do it from here, Sir Francis. The channel is about mid-stream;and now that mine eyes are got accustomed to the dull tinge of thewater, I can see the fleck and scum on the farther sand-ridge."
"Good! thou art our watch."
The admiral turned to the rest of his party. "Gentlemen," said he, "inone sense we work in the dark to-night; our foes have willed it so. Yehave come out on this errand at my bidding, asking no questions, andso, in a way, ye are groping in a double darkness. 'Tis not my way tohave men follow me blindly if I can open their eyes. I want those atmy back to see; by so doing they will strike the surer. Now, tidingshave reached me that those Spanish rascals whom ye wot of are about tobring their plot to a head. Tomorrow night they hope to see the forestin flames." The men stirred uneasily; Drake went on: "We have had along drought, and master-pilot will tell ye that there are strong windscoming up from the sou'-west. For to-night and to-morrow they may bedry; after that we may expect rain. Some of ye will know the _Luath_that trades between Gloucester and Waterford in Ireland. The Irish arenot loyal to our Queen--that ye also know. The _Luath_ came up toChepstow on the tide this morning, and no one, unless in the secret ofthese Spanish villains, would dream that she carried ought but honestcargo. Her hull, gentlemen, hides four rascal priests and otherdesperate fellows to the full total of half a score, and much of hermerchandise is tar, oils and resin, and bales of tow. The boat shouldwait off Chepstow for the tide that runs to-morrow forenoon beforeattempting the dangerous run onwards to Gloucester. She really leavesto-night. Just above Westbury she hath planned an anchorage, and thereMaster Windybank of Dean Tower--whom, God helping me, I will hang overhis own gateway before another sunset--will meet them with pack-horseswherewith to convey the combustibles to their appointed places. 'Tisour business to capture the _Luath_. The good knight Sir WalterRaleigh and the gallant Mayor of Newnham will see to Master Windybankand the black-garbed villains that consort with him. That is ourmission; it remains for us to bring about a sure accomplishment."
"'Tis as good as done, admiral," murmured the men.
"There'll be a little tough fighting first," was the quiet reply."Capture means death to these fellows. They are brave, and will preferto die fighting."
The river still rose; the tide was nearing full flood, and the windsteadily increased. Soon there was water of a navigable depth aboveevery sandbank, and there was no longer a swirl to indicate a shallow.Morgan had seen nothing; the men were getting cramped and impatient.There was now no need for the _Luath_ to pick her way; she might raceup anywhere between the wide banks: her chances of detection weregreatly lessened.
The pilot spoke. "Saving your presence, admiral, but this Irishskipper is a deep dog. He should have passed ere now if he intends todo his business at Westbury and then make Gloucester on this tide. Hesuspects us."
"How so, pilot?"
"He hath not ventured to navigate the usual channels, which could bewatched."
"He'll have no pilot; don't forget that."
"True; nevertheless he is behaving right cunningly."
"I never expected him to behave foolishly."
"'Sh!" Morgan's voice broke in. There was tense silence in a moment.All eyes were staring across the river. "Row out!" cried Johnnie;"they won't hear us in this wind."
After about a dozen full strokes the command
came from the bow, "Ceaserowing and keep her steady a moment!"
Another palpitating wait; then an excited cry from more than one voice,"There she goes!" And the _Luath_, every thread of her brown sailtaut, swept by like a greyhound, wind and wave hurrying her upstream.
Round swung the admiral's boat, up went the sail, and in a moment shewas bowling along in the wake of the foe. "Put your backs into it,lads," cried Drake; "we must have her before she gets too far up theriver, else will the longshore rascals get warning."
The stout foresters and fishers needed no incentive; they were rowingas well as ever Jason's Argonauts rowed, and a greater than Jason wasdirecting them.
The yellow waters rushed and swirled and bubbled; objects drifting upon the tide were left hopelessly behind. But the stout little Irishboat had got under good headway, and for a while she kept it, loomingbefore them a blacker patch in a black night.
