CHAPTER V.
_Don Sanchez puts us in the way of robbing with an easy conscience._
Promising to make his story as short as he possibly could, Don Sanchezbegan:
"On the coming of our present king to his throne, Sir Richard Godwin wasrecalled from Italy, whither he had been sent as embassador by theProtector. He sailed from Livorno with his wife and his daughter Judith,a child of nine years old at that time, in the Seahawk."
"I remember her," says Evans, "as stout a ship as ever was put to sea."
"On the second night of her voyage the Seahawk became parted from herconvoy, and the next day she was pursued and overtaken by a pair ofBarbary pirates, to whom she gave battle."
"Aye, and I'd have done the same," cries Evans, "though they had been ascore."
"After a long and bloody fight," continues Don Sanchez, "the corsairssucceeded in boarding the Seahawk and overcoming the remnant of hercompany."
"Poor hearts! would I had been there to help 'em," says Evans.
"Exasperated by the obstinate resistance of these English and their ownlosses, the pirates would grant no mercy, but tying the living to thedead they cast all overboard save Mrs. Godwin and her daughter. Her lotwas even worse; for her wounded husband, Sir Richard, was snatched fromher arms and flung into the sea before her eyes, and he sank cryingfarewell to her."
"These Turks have no hearts in their bellies, you must understand,"explains Evans. "And nought but venom in their veins."
"The Seahawk was taken to Alger, and there Mrs. Godwin and her daughterwere sold for slaves in the public market-place."
"I have seen 'em sold by the score there," says Evans, "and fetch but anonion a head."
"By good fortune the mother and daughter were bought by Sidi ben Moula,a rich old merchant who was smitten by the pretty, delicate looks ofJudith, whom he thenceforth treated as if she had been his own child. Inthis condition they lived with greater happiness than falls to the lotof most slaves, until the beginning of last year, when Sidi died, andhis possessions fell to his brother, Bare ben Moula. Then Mrs. Godwinappeals to Bare for her liberty and to be sent home to her country,saying that what price (in reason) he chooses to set upon their headsshe will pay from her estate in England--a thing which she had proposedbefore to Sidi, but he would not hear of it because of his love forJudith and his needing no greater fortune than he had. But this Bare,though he would be very well content, being also an old man, to have hishousehold managed by Mrs. Godwin and to adopt Judith as his child, beingof a more avaricious turn than his brother, at length consents to it, oncondition that her ransoms be paid before she quits Barbary. And so,casting about how this may be done, Mrs. Godwin finds a captive whoseprice has been paid, about to be taken to Palma in the Baleares, and tohim she entrusts two letters." Here Don Sanchez pulls two folded sheetsof vellum from his pocket, and presenting one to me, he says:
"Mayhap you recognise this hand, Mr. Knight."
And I, seeing the signature Elizabeth Godwin, answers quickly enough:"Aye, 'tis my dear cousin Bess, her own hand."
"This," says the Don, handing the other to Evans, "you may understand."
"I can make out 'tis writ in the Moorish style," says Evans, "but themeaning of it I know not, for I can't tell great A from a bull's footthough it be in printed English."
"'Tis an undertaking on the part of Bare ben Moula," says the Don, "todeliver up at Dellys in Barbary the persons of Mrs. Godwin and herdaughter against the payment of five thousand gold ducats within oneyear. The other writing tells its own story."
Mr. Hopkins took the first sheet from me and read it aloud. It wasaddressed to Mr. Richard Godwin, Hurst Court, Chislehurst in Kent, andafter giving such particulars of her past as we had already heard fromDon Sanchez, she writes thus: "And now, my dear nephew, as I doubt notyou (as the nearest of my kindred to my dear husband after us two poorrelicts) have taken possession of his estate in the belief we were alllost in our voyage from Italy, I do pray you for the love of God and ofmercy to deliver us from our bondage by sending hither a ship with themoney for our ransoms forthwith, and be assured by this that I shall notdispossess you of your fortune (more than my bitter circumstances do nowrequire), so that I but come home to die in a Christian country and havemy sweet Judith where she may be less exposed to harm than in thisinfidel country. I count upon your love,--being ever a dear nephew,--andam your most hopeful, trusting, and loving aunt, Elizabeth Godwin."
"Very well, sir," says Mr. Hopkins, returning the letter. "You have beento Chislehurst."
"I have," answers the Don, "and there I find the estate in the hands ofa most curious Puritanical steward, whose honesty is rather in theletter than the spirit. For though I have reason to believe that not onepenny's value of the estate has been misemployed since it has been inhis hands, yet will he give nothing--no, not a maravedi to theredemption of his mistress, saying that the letter is addressed toRichard Godwin and not to him, etc., and that he hath no power to payout monies for this purpose, even though he believed the facts I havelaid before him--which for his own ends doubtless he fains to misdoubt."
"As a trader, sir," says Mr. Hopkins, "I cannot blame his conduct inthat respect. For should the venture fall through, the next heir mightcall upon him to repay out of his own pocket all that he had put intothis enterprise. But this Mr. Richard Godwin, what of him?"
"He is nowhere to be found. The only relatives I have been able todiscover are these two gentlemen."
"Who," remarks Mr. Hopkins, with a shrewd glance at our soiled clothes,"are not, I venture to think, in a position to pay their cousin'sransom."
"Alas, no, sir," says Jack. "We are but two poor shopkeepers of Londonundone by the great fire."
"Well now, sir," says Mr. Hopkins, fetching an inkpot, a pen, and apiece of paper from his pocket. "I may conclude that you wish me toadventure upon the redemption of these two ladies in Barbary, upon thehazard of being repaid by Mrs. Godwin when she recovers her estate." Andthe Don making him a reverence, he continues, "We must first learn theextent of our liabilities. What sum is to be paid to Bare ben Moula?"
"Five thousand gold ducats--about two thousand pounds English."
"Two thousand," says Mr. Hopkins, writing. "Then, Robert Evans, whatcharge is yours for fetching the ladies from Dellys?"
"Master Hopkins, I have said fifteen hundred pounds," says he, "and Iwon't go from my word though all laugh at me for a madman."
"That seems a great deal of money," says Mr. Hopkins.
"Well, if you think fifteen hundred pounds too much for my carcase and aship of twenty men, you can go seek a cheaper market elsewhere."
"You think there is very small likelihood of coming back alive?"
"Why, comrade, 'tis as if you should go into a den of lions and hope toget out whole; for though I have the Duke's pass, these Moors are nofitter to be trusted than a sackful of serpents. 'Tis ten to one ourship be taken, and we fools all sold into slavery."
"Ten to one," says Mr. Hopkins; "that is to say, you would make thisvoyage for the tenth part of what you ask were you sure of returningsafe."
"I would go as far anywhere outside the straits for an hundred poundswith a lighter heart."
Mr. Hopkins nods his head, and setting down some figures on his paper,says:
"The bare outlay in hard money amounts to thirty-five hundred pounds.Reckoning the risk at Robert Evans' own valuation (which I take to be avery low one), I must see reasonable prospect of winning thirty-fivethousand pounds by my hazard."
"Mrs. Godwin's estate I know to be worth double that amount."
"But who will promise me that return?" asks Mr. Hopkins. "Not you?" (TheDon shook his head.) "Not you?" (turning to us, with the same result)."Not Mrs. Godwin, for we have no means of communicating with her. Notthe steward--you have shown me that. Who then remains but this RichardGodwin who cannot be found? If," adds he, getting up from his seat, "youcan find Richard Godwin, put him in possession of the estate, and obtainfrom him a reasonable prom
ise that this sum shall be paid on the returnof Mrs. Godwin, I may feel disposed to consider your proposal moreseriously. But till then I can do nothing."
"Likewise, masters all," says Evans, fetching his hat and shawl from thecorner, "I can't wait for a blue moon; and if so be we don't signarticles in a week, I'm off of my bargain, and mighty glad to get out ofit so cheap."
"You see," says Don Sanchez, when they were gone out of the room, "howimpossible it is that Mrs. Godwin and her daughter shall be redeemedfrom captivity. To-morrow I shall show you what kind of a fellow thesteward is that he should have the handling of this fortune rather thanwe."
Then presently, with an indifferent, careless air, as if 'twas nought,he gives us a purse and bids us go out in the town to furnish ourselveswith what disguise was necessary to our purpose. Therewith Dawson getshim some seaman's old clothes at a Jew's, and I a very neat, presentablesuit of cloth, etc., and the rest of the money we take back to DonSanchez without taking so much as a penny for our other uses; but he,doing all things very magnificent, would have none of it, but bade uskeep it against our other necessities. And now having his money in ourpockets, we felt 'twould be more dishonest to go back from this businessthan to go forward with it, lead us whither it might.
Next morning off we go betimes, Jack more like Robert Evans than hismother's son, and I a most seeming substantial man (so that the verystable lad took off his hat to me), and on very good horses a long rideto Chislehurst And there coming to a monstrous fine park, Don Sanchezstayed us before the gates, and bidding us look up a broad avenue ofgreat oaks to a most surprising brave house, he told us this was HurstCourt, and we might have it for our own within a year if we were sominded.
Hence, at no great distance we reach a square plain house, the windowsall barred with stout iron, and the most like a prison I did ever see.Here Don Sanchez ringing a bell, a little grating in the door is opened,and after some parley we are admitted by a sturdy fellow carrying acudgel in his hand. So we into a cold room, with not a spark of fire onthe hearth but a few ashes, no hangings to the windows, nor any ornamentor comfort at all, but only a table and half a dozen wooden stools, anda number of shelves against the wall full of account books and papersprotected by a grating of stout wire secured with sundry padlocks. Andhere, behind a tableful of papers, sat our steward, SimonStout-in-faith, a most withered, lean old man, clothed all in leather,wearing no wig but his own rusty grey hair falling lank on hisshoulders, with a sour face of a very jaundiced complexion, and paleeyes that seemed to swim in a yellowish rheum, which he was for evera-mopping with a rag.
"I am come, Mr. Steward," says Don Sanchez, "to conclude the business wewere upon last week."
"Aye," cries Dawson, for all the world in the manner of Evans, "but erewe get to this dry matter let's have a bottle to ease the way, for thisriding of horseback has parched up my vitals confoundedly."
"If thou art athirst," says Simon, "Peter shall fetch thee a jug ofwater from the well; but other liquor have we none in this house."
"Let Peter drown in your well," says Dawson, with an oath; "I'll havenone of it. Let's get this matter done and away, for I'd as lief sit ina leaky hold as in this here place for comfort."
"Here," says Don Sanchez, "is a master mariner who is prepared to riskhis life, and here a merchant adventurer of London who will hazard hismoney, to redeem your mistress and her daughter from slavery."
"Praise the Lord, Peter," says the steward. Whereupon the sturdy fellowwith the cudgel fell upon his knees, as likewise did Simon, and both ina snuffling voice render thanks to Heaven in words which I do not thinkit proper to write here. Then, being done, they get up, and the steward,having dried his eyes, says:
"So far our prayers have been answered. Put me in mind, friend Peter,that to-night we pray these worthy men prosper in their design."
"If they succeed," says Don Sanchez, "it will cost your mistressfive-and-thirty thousand pounds."
The steward clutched at the table as if at the fortune about to turnfrom him; his jaw fell, and he stared at Don Sanchez in bewilderment,then getting the face to speak, he gasps out, "Thirty-five thousandpounds!" and still in a maze asks: "Art thou in thy right senses,friend?"
The Don hunches his shoulders and turns to me. Whereupon I lay forth inpretty much the same words as Mr. Hopkins used, the risk of the venture,etc., to all which this Simon listened with starting eyes and gapingmouth.
"Thirty-five thousand pounds!" he says again; "why, friend, 'tis half ofall I have made of the estate by a life of thrift and care and earnestseeking."
"'Tis in your power, Simon," says Don Sanchez, "to spare your mistressthis terrible charge, for which your fine park must be felled, yourfarms cut up, and your economies be scattered. The master here willfetch your mistress home for fifteen hundred pounds."
"Why, even that is an extortion."
"Nay," says Jack, "if you think fifteen hundred pounds too much for mycarcase and a ship of twenty men, you may seek a cheaper market andwelcome, for I've no stomach to risk my life and property for less."
"To the fifteen hundred pounds you must add the ransom of two thousandpounds. Thus Mrs. Godwin and her daughter may be redeemed forthirty-five hundred pounds to her saving of thirty-one thousand fivehundred pounds," says the Don.
And here Dawson and I were secretly struck by his honesty in not seekingto affright the steward from an honest course, but rather tempting himto it by playing upon his parsimony and avarice.
"Three thousand five hundred," says Simon, putting it down in writing,that he might the better realise his position. "But you say, friendmerchant, that the risk is as ten to one against seeing thy moneyagain."
"I will run the risk for thirty-one thousand pounds, and no less," saysI.
"But if it may be done for a tenth part, how then?"
"Why, 'tis your risk, sir, and not mine," says I.
"Yea, yea, my risk. And you tell me, friend sailor, that you stand indanger of being plundered by these infidels."
"Aye, more like than not."
"Why, then we may count half the estate gone; and the peril is to be runagain, and thus all cast away for nought."
In this manner did Simon halt betwixt two ways like one distracted, butonly he did mingle a mass of sacred words with his arguments whichseemed to me nought but profanity, his sole concern being the gain ofmoney. Then he falls to the old excuses Don Sanchez had told us of,saying he had no money of his own, and offering to show his books thatwe might see he had taken not one penny beyond his bare expenses fromthe estate, save his yearly wage, and that no more than Sir Richard hadgiven him in his lifetime. And on Don Sanchez showing Mrs. Godwin'sletter as a fitting authority to draw out this money for her use, hefirst feigns to doubt her hand, and then says he: "If an accidentbefalls these two women ere they return to justify me, how shall Ianswer to the next heir for this outlay? Verily" (clasping his hands) "Iam as one standing in darkness, and I dare not move until I am betterenlightened; so prithee, friend, give me time to commune with myconscience."
Don Sanchez hunches up his shoulders and turns to us.
"Why, look here, Master," says Dawson. "I can't see as you need muchenlightenment to answer yes or no to a fair offer, and as for me, I'mnot going to hang in a hedge for a blue moon. So if you won't clap handson the bargain without more ado, I throw this business overboard andshall count I've done the best day's work of my life in getting out ofthe affair."
Then I made as if I would willingly draw out of my share in the project.
"My friends," says Simon, "there can be scarce any hope at all if thouwilt not hazard thy money for such a prodigious advantage." Then turningto Peter as his last hope, he asks in despair, "What shall we do, mybrother?"
"We can keep on a-praying, friend Simon," replies Peter, in a snivellingvoice.
"A blessed thought!" exclaims the steward in glee. "Surely that is morerighteous than to lay faith in our own vain effort. So do thou, friend"(turning to me), "put thy money to this use, for I
will none."
"I cannot do that, sir," says I, "without an assurance that Mrs.Godwin's estate will bear this charge."
With wondrous alacrity Simon fetches a book with a plan of the estate,whereby he showed us that not a holding on the estate was untenanted,not a single tenant in arrear with his rent, and that the value of theproperty with all deductions made was sixty-five thousand pounds.
"Very good sir," says I. "Now you must give me a written note, statingwhat you have shown, with your sanction to my making this venture onMrs. Godwin's behalf, that I may justify my claim hereafter."
But this Simon stoutly refused to do, saying his conscience would notallow him to sign any bond (clearly with the hope that he might in theend shuffle out of paying anything at all), until Don Sanchez, losingpatience, declared he would certainly hunt all London through to findthat Mr. Richard Godwin, who was the next of kin, hinting that he wouldcertainly give us such sanction as we required if only to prove hisright to the succession should our venture fail.
This put the steward to a new taking; but the Don holding firm, he atlength agreed to give us this note, upon Don Sanchez writing anotheraffirming that he had seen Mrs. Godwin and her daughter in Barbary, andwas going forth to fetch them, that should Mr. Richard Godwin come toclaim the estate he might be justly put off.
And so this business ended to our great satisfaction, we saying toourselves that we had done all that man could to redeem the captives,and that it would be no harm at all to put a cheat upon the miserlysteward. Whether we were any way more honest than he in shaping ourconduct according to our inclinations is a question which troubled usthen very little.