VII. SIR JUDAS
The Betrayal of Sir Walter Ralegh
Sir Walter was met on landing at Plymouth from his ill-starred voyage toEl Dorado by Sir Lewis Stukeley, which was but natural, seeing that SirLewis was not only Vice-Admiral of Devon, but also Sir Walter's verygood friend and kinsman.
If Sir Walter doubted whether it was in his quality as kinsman or asVice-Admiral that Sir Lewis met him, the cordiality of the latter'sembrace and the noble entertainment following at the house of SirChristopher Hare, near the port, whither Sir Lewis conducted him, setthis doubt at rest and relighted the lamp of hope in the despairing soulof our adventurer. In Sir Lewis he saw only his kinsman--his verygood friend and kinsman, to insist upon Stukeley's own description ofhimself--at a time when of all others in his crowded life he needed thesupport of a kinsman and the guidance of a friend.
You know the story of this Sir Walter, who had been one of the brightestornaments of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, and might have added lustreto that of King James, had not his Sowship--to employ the title bestowedupon that prince by his own queen--been too mean of soul to appreciatethe man's great worth. Courtier, philosopher, soldier, man of lettersand man of action alike, Ralegh was at once the greatest prose-writer,and one of the greatest captains of his age, the last survivor of thatglorious company--whose other members were Drake and Frobisher andHawkins--that had given England supremacy upon the seas, that had brokenthe power and lowered the pride of Spain.
His was a name that had resounded, to the honour and glory of England,throughout the world, a name that, like Drake's, was a thing of hate andterror to King Philip and his Spaniards; yet the King of Scots, uncleanof body and of mind, who had succeeded to the throne of Elizabeth, mustaffect ignorance of that great name which shall never die while Englandlives.
When the splendid courtier stood before him--for at fifty Sir Walter wasstill handsome of person and magnificent of Apparel--James looked himover and inquired who he might be. When they had told him:
"I've rawly heard of thee," quoth the royal punster, who sought by suchatrocities of speech to be acclaimed a wit.
It was ominous of what must follow, and soon thereafter you see thisgreat and gallant gentleman arrested on a trumped-up charge of hightreason, bullied, vituperated, and insulted by venal, peddling lawyers,and, finally, although his wit and sincerity had shattered everyfragment of evidence brought against him, sentenced to death. Thus farJames went; but he hesitated to go further, hesitated to carry out thesentence. Sir Walter had too many friends in England then; the memory ofhis glorious deeds was still too fresh in the public mind, and executionmight have been attended by serious consequences for King James.Besides, one at least of the main objects was achieved. Sir Walter'sbroad acres were confiscate by virtue of that sentence, and King Jameswanted the land--filched thus from one who was England's pride--tobestow it upon one of those golden calves of his who were England'sshame.
"I maun hae the land for Carr. I maun hae it," was his brazen andpeevish answer to an appeal against the confiscation.
For thirteen years Sir Walter lay in the Tower, under that sentence ofdeath passed in 1603, enjoying after a season a certain liberty, visitedthere by his dear lady and his friends, among whom was Henry, Prince ofWales, who did not hesitate to publish that no man but his father--whomhe detested--would keep such a bird in a cage. He beguiled the time inliterary and scientific pursuits, distilling his essences and writingthat stupendous work of his, "The History of the World." Thus old agecrept upon him; but far from quenching the fires of enterprise withinhis adventurer's soul, it brought a restlessness that urged him at lastto make a bid for liberty. Despairing of winning it from the clemency ofJames, he applied his wits to extracting it from the King's cupidity.
Throughout his life, since the day when first he had brought himself tothe notice of a Queen by making of his cloak a carpet for her feet, hehad retained side by side with the dignity of the sage and thegreatness of the hero, the craft and opportunism of the adventurer. Hisopportunity now was the straitened condition of the royal treasury, ahint of which had been let fall by Winwood the Secretary of State. Heannounced at once that he knew of a gold mine in Guiana, the El Doradoof the Spaniards.
On his return from a voyage to Guiana in 1595, he had written of itthus:
"There the common soldier shall fight for gold instead of pence, payhimself with plates half a foot broad, whereas he breaks his bones inother wars for provant and penury Those commanders and chieftains thatshoot at honour and abundance shall find here more rich and beautifulcities, more temples adorned with golden images, more sepulchres filledwith treasure than either Cortez found in Mexico or Pizarro in Peru."
Winwood now reminded him that as a consequence many expeditions had goneout, but failed to discover any of these things.
"That," said Ralegh, "is because those adventurers were ignorant alikeof the country and of the art of conciliating its inhabitants. Were Ipermitted to go, I would make Guiana to England what Peru has been toSpain."
That statement, reported to James in his need, was enough to fire hiscupidity, and when Ralegh had further added that he would guaranteeto the Crown one-fifth of the treasure without asking any contributiontowards the adventure either in money or in ships, he was permitted tocome forth and prepare for the expedition.
His friends came to his assistance, and in March of 1617 he set sail forEl Dorado with a well-manned and well-equipped fleet of fourteen ships,the Earls of Arundel and Pembroke standing sureties for his return.
From the outset the fates were unpropitious. Disaster closed theadventure. Gondomar, the Ambassador of Spain at Whitehall, toowell-informed of what was afoot, had warned his master. Spanish shipswaited to frustrate Sir Walter, who was under pledge to avoid allconflict with the forces of King Philip. But conflict there was, andbloodshed in plenty, about the city of Manoa, which the Spaniards heldas the key to the country into which the English adventurers soughtto penetrate. Among the slain were the Governor of Manoa, who wasGondomar's own brother, and Sir Walter's eldest son.
To Ralegh, waiting at the mouth of the Orinoco, came his beaten forcesin retreat, with the terrible news of a happening that meant hisruin. Half-maddened, his anguish increased by the loss of his boy, heupbraided them so fiercely that Keymis, who had been in charge ofthe expedition, shut himself up in his cabin and shot himself witha pocket-pistol. Mutiny followed, and Whitney--most trusted of SirWalter's captains--set sail for England, being followed by six otherships of that fleet, which meanwhile had been reduced to twelve. Withthe remaining five the stricken Sir Walter had followed more at leisure.What need to hurry? Disgrace, and perhaps death, awaited him in England.He knew the power of Spain with James, who was so set upon a Spanishmarriage for his heir, knew Spain's hatred of himself, and whateloquence it would gather in the mouth of Gondomar, intent upon avenginghis brother's death.
He feared the worst, and so was glad upon landing to have by him akinsman upon whom he could lean for counsel and guidance in this thedarkest hour of all his life. Sitting late that night in the library ofSir Christopher Hare's house, Sir Walter told his cousin in detail thestory of his misadventure, and confessed to his misgivings.
"My brains are broken," was his cry.
Stukeley combed his beard in thought. He had little comfort to offer.
"It was not expected," said he, "that you would return.
"Not expected?" Sir Walter's bowed white head was suddenly flung back.Indignation blazed in the eyes that age had left undimmed. "What act inall my life justified the belief I should be false to honour? My dangerhere was made quite plain, and Captain King would have had me steer acourse for France, where I had found a welcome and a harbour. But toconsent I must have been false to my Lords of Arundel and Pembroke,who were sureties to the King for my return. Life is still sweet to me,despite my three-score years and more, but honour is sweeter still."
And then, because life was sweet, he bluntly asked his cousin: "What isthe King's int
ent by me?"
"Nay, now," said Stukeley, "who shall know what passes in the King'smind? From the signs, I judge your case to be none so desperate. Youhave good friends in plenty, among whom, although the poorest, countmyself the first. Anon, when you are rested, we'll to London by easystages, baiting at the houses of your friends, and enlisting their goodoffices on your behalf."
Ralegh took counsel on the matter with Captain King, a bluff,tawny-bearded seaman, who was devoted to him body and soul.
"Sir Lewis proposes it, eh?" quoth the hardy seaman. "And Sir Lewisis Vice-Admiral of Devon? He is not by chance bidden to escort you toLondon?"
The Captain, clearly, had escaped the spell of Stukeley's affability.Sir Walter was indignant. He had never held his kinsman in greatesteem, and had never been on the best of terms with him in the past.Nevertheless, he was very far from suspecting him of what King implied.To convince him that he did Sir Lewis an injustice, Ralegh put the bluntquestion to his kinsman in King's presence.
"Nay," said Sir Lewis, "I am not yet bidden to escort you. But asVice-Admiral of Devon I may at any moment be so bidden. It were wiser, Ihold, not to await such an order. Though even if it come," he madehaste to add, "you may still count upon my friendship. I am your kinsmanfirst, and Vice-Admiral after."
With a smile that irradiated his handsome, virile countenance, SirWalter held out his hand to clasp his cousin's in token of appreciation.Captain King expressed no opinion save what might be conveyed in a gruntand a shrug.
Guided now unreservedly by his cousin's counsel, Sir Walter set out withhim upon that journey to London. Captain King went with them, as wellas Sir Walter's body-servant, Cotterell, and a Frenchman named Manourie,who had made his first appearance in the Plymouth household on theprevious day. Stukeley explained the fellow as a gifted man of medicine,whom he had sent for to cure him of a trivial but inconvenient ailmentby which he was afflicted.
Journeying by slow stages, as Sir Lewis had directed, they came atlast to Brentford. Sir Walter, had he followed his own bent, would havejourneyed more slowly still, for in a measure, as he neared London,apprehensions of what might await him there grew ever darker. He spokeof them to King, and the blunt Captain said nothing to dispel them.
"You are being led like a sheep to the shambles," he declared, "andyou go like a sheep. You should have landed in France, where you havefriends. Even now it is not too late. A ship could be procured..."
"And my honour could be sunk at sea," Sir Walter harshly concluded, inreproof of such counsel.
But at the inn at Brentford he was sought out by a visitor, who broughthim the like advice in rather different terms. This was De Chesne, thesecretary of the French envoy, Le Clerc. Cordially welcomed by Ralegh,the Frenchman expressed his deep concern to see Sir Walter under arrest.
"You conclude too hastily," laughed Sir Walter.
"Monsieur, I do not conclude. I speak of what I am inform'."
"Misinformed, sir. I am not a prisoner--at least, not yet," he added,with a sigh. "I travel of my own free will to London with my good friendand kinsman Stukeley to lay the account of my voyage before the King."
"Of your own free will? You travel of your own free will? And you arenot a prisoner? Ha!" There was bitter mockery in De Chesne's shortlaugh. "C'est bien drole!" And he explained: "Milord the Duke oBuckingham, he has write in his master's name to the ambassador Gondomarthat you are taken and held at the disposal of the King of Spain.Gondomar is to inform him whether King Philip wish that you be sent toSpain to essay the justice of his Catholic Majesty, or that you sufferhere. Meanwhile your quarters are being made ready in the Tower. Yet youtell me you are not prisoner! You go of your own free will to London.Sir Walter, do not be deceive'. If you reach London, you are lost."
Now here was news to shatter Sir Walter's last illusion. Yet desperatelyhe clung to the fragments of it. The envoy's secretary must be at fault.
"'Tis yourself are at fault, Sir Walter, in that you trust those aboutyou," the Frenchman insisted.
Sir Walter stared at him, frowning. "D'ye mean Stukeley?" quoth he,half-indignant already at the mere suggestion.
"Sir Lewis, he is your kinsman." De Chesne shrugged. "You should knowyour family better than I. But who is this Manourie who accompanies you?Where is he come from? What you know of him?"
Sir Walter confessed that he knew nothing.
"But I know much. He is a fellow of evil reputation. A spy who does notscruple to sell his own people. And I know that letters of commissionfrom the Privy Council for your arrest were give' to him in London tendays ago. Whether those letters were to himself, or he was just themessenger to another, imports nothing. The fact is everything. Thewarrant against you exists, and it is in the hands of one or another ofthose that accompany you. I say no more. As I have tol' you, you shouldknow your own family. But of this be sure, they mean that you go tothe Tower, and so to your death. And now, Sir Walter, if I show you thedisease I also bring the remedy. I am command' by my master to offeryou a French barque which is in the Thames, and a safe conduct to theGovernor of Calais. In France you will find safety and honour, as yourworth deserve'."
Up sprang Sir Walter from his chair, and flung off the cloak of thoughtin which he had been mantled.
"Impossible," he said. "Impossible! There is my plighted word to return,and there are my Lords of Arundel and Pembroke, who are sureties for me.I cannot leave them to suffer by my default."
"They will not suffer at all," De Chesne assured him. He was very wellinformed. "King James has yielded to Spain partly because he fears,partly because he will have a Spanish marriage for Prince Charles, andwill do nothing to trouble his good relations with King Philip. But,after all, you have friends, whom his Majesty also fears. If you escape'you would resolve all his perplexities. I do not believe that anyobstacle will be offer' to your escape--else why they permit you totravel thus without any guard, and to retain your sword?"
Half distracted as he was by what he had learnt, yet Sir Walter clungstoutly and obstinately to what he believed to be the only course for aman of honour. And so he dismissed De Chesne with messages of gratitudebut refusal to his master, and sent for Captain King. Together theyconsidered all that the secretary had stated, and King agreed with DeChesne's implied opinion that it was Sir Lewis himself who held thewarrant.
They sent for him at once, and Ralegh straightly taxed him with it. SirLewis as straightly admitted it, and when King thereupon charged himwith deceit he showed no anger, but only the profoundest grief. He sankinto a chair, and took his head in his hands.
"What could I do? What could I do?" he cried. "The warrant came in thevery moment we were setting out. At first I thought of telling you; andthen I bethought me that to do so would be but to trouble your mind,without being able to offer you help."
Sir Walter understood what was implied. "Did you not say," he asked,"that you were my kinsman first and Vice-Admiral of Devon after?"
"Ay--and so I am. Though I must lose my office of Vice-Admiral, whichhas cost me six hundred pounds, if I suffer you to escape, I'd neverhesitate if it were not for Manourie, who watches me as closely as hewatches you, and would baulk us at the last. And that is why I have heldmy peace on the score of this warrant. What can it help that I shouldtrouble you with the matter until at the same time I can offer you someway out?"
"The Frenchman has a throat, and throats can be slit," said thedownright King.
"So they can; and men can be hanged for slitting them," returned SirLewis, and thereafter resumed and elaborated his first argument, usingnow such forceful logic and obvious sincerity that Sir Walter wasconvinced. He was no less convinced, too, of the peril in which hestood. He plied those wits of his, which had rarely failed him in anextremity. Manourie was the difficulty. But in his time he had knownmany of these agents who, without sentimental interest and purely forthe sake of gold, were ready to play such parts; and never yet hadhe known one who was not to be corrupted. So that evening he desiredManourie's company in the roo
m above stairs that had been set apart forSir Walter's use. Facing him across the table at which both were seated,Sir Walter thrust his clenched fist upon the board, and, suddenlyopening it, dazzled the Frenchman's beady eyes with the jewel sparklingin his palm.
"Tell me, Manourie, are you paid as much as that to betray me?"
Manourie paled a little under his tan. He was a swarthy, sharp-featuredfellow, slight and wiry. He looked into Sir Walter's grimly smilingeyes, then again at the white diamond, from which the candlelight wasstriking every colour of the rainbow. He made a shrewd estimate of itsprice, and shook his black head. He had quite recovered from the shockof Sir Walter's question.
"Not half as much," he confessed, with impudence.
"Then you might find it more remunerative to serve me," said the knight."This jewel is to be earned."
The agent's eyes flickered; he passed his tongue over his lips. "Ashow?" quoth he.
"Briefly thus: I have but learnt of the trammel in which I am taken. Imust have time to concert my measures of escape, and time is almost atan end. You are skilled in drugs, so my kinsman tells me. Can you sodrug me as to deceive physicians that I am in extremis?"
Manourie considered awhile.
"I... I think I could," he answered presently.
"And keep faith with me in this, at the price of, say.. two suchstones?"
The venal knave gasped in amazement. This was not generosity; it wasprodigality. He recovered again, and swore himself Sir Walter's.
"About it, then." Sir Walter rolled the gem across the board into theclutch of the spy, which pounced to meet it. "Keep that in earnest. Theother will follow when we have cozened them."
Next morning Sir Walter could not resume the journey. When Cotterellwent to dress him he found his master taken with vomits, and reelinglike a drunkard. The valet ran to fetch Sir Lewis, and when theyreturned together they found Sir Walter on all fours gnawing the rusheson the floor, his face livid and horribly distorted, his brow glisteningwith sweat.
Stukeley, in alarm, ordered Cotterell to get his master back to bedand to foment him, which was done. But on the next day there was noimprovement, and on the third things were in far more serious case.The skin of his brow and arms and breast was inflamed, and covered withhorrible purple blotches--the result of an otherwise harmless ointmentwith which the French empiric had supplied him.
When Stukeley beheld him thus disfigured, and lying apparently inertand but half-conscious upon his bed, he backed away in terror. TheVice-Admiral had seen afore-time the horrible manifestations of theplague, and could not be mistaken here. He fled from the infected airof his kinsman's chamber, and summoned what physicians were availableto pronounce and prescribe. The physicians came--three in number--butmanifested no eagerness to approach the patient closely. The mere sightof him was enough to lead them to the decision that he was afflictedwith the plague in a singularly virulent form.
Presently one of them plucked up courage so far as to feel the pulseof the apparently delirious patient. Its feebleness confirmed hisdiagnosis; moreover the hand he held was cold and turgid. He was not toknow that Sir Walter had tightly wrapped about his upper arm the ribbonfrom his poniard, and so he was entirely deceived.
The physicians withdrew, and delivered their verdict, whereupon SirLewis at once sent word of it to the Privy Council.
That afternoon the faithful Captain King, sorely afflicted by the news,came to visit his master, and was introduced to Sir Walter's chamber byManourie, who was in attendance upon him. To the seaman's amazement hefound Sir Walter sitting up in bed, surveying in a hand-mirror a facethat was horrible beyond description with the complacent smile of onewho takes satisfaction in his appearance. Yet there was no feveredmadness in the smiling eyes. They were alive with intelligence,amounting, indeed, to craft.
"Ah, King!" was the glad welcome "The prophet David did make himself afool, and suffered spittle to fall upon his beard, to escape from thehands of his enemies And there was Brutus, ay, and others as memorablewho have descended to such artifice."
Though he laughed, it is clear that he was seeking to excuse anunworthiness of which he was conscious.
"Artifice?" quoth King, aghast. "Is this artifice?"
"Ay--a hedge against my enemies, who will be afraid to approach me."
King sat himself down by his master's bed. "A better hedge against yourenemies, Sir Walter, would have been the strip of sea 'twixt here andFrance. Would to Heaven you had done as I advised ere you set foot inthis ungrateful land."
"The omission may be repaired," said Sir Walter.
Before the imminence of his peril, as now disclosed to him, Sir Walterhad been reconsidering De Chesne's assurance touching my Lords ofArundel and Pembroke, and he had come to conclude--the more readily,perhaps because it was as he would have it--that De Chesne was right;that to break faith with them were no such great matter after all, norone for which they would be called upon to suffer. And so, now, when itwas all but too late, he yielded to the insistence of Captain King, andconsented to save himself by flight to France. King was to go about thebusiness of procuring a ship without loss of time. Yet there was no needof desperate haste, as was shown when presently orders came to Brentfordfor the disposal of the prisoner. The King, who was at Salisbury,desired that Sir Walter should be conveyed to his own house in London.Stukeley reported this to him, proclaiming it a sign of royal favour.Sir Walter was not deceived. He knew the reason to be fear lest heshould infect the Tower with the plague by which he was reportedstricken.
So the journey was resumed, and Sir Walter was brought to London, andsafely bestowed in his own house, but ever in the care of his lovingfriend and kinsman. Manourie's part being fulfilled and the aimaccomplished, Sir Walter completed the promised payment by bestowingupon him the second diamond--a form of eminently portable currency withwhich the knight was well supplied. On the morrow Manourie was gone,dismissed as a consequence of the part he had played.
It was Stukeley who told Sir Walter this--a very well informed andinjured Stukeley, who asked to know what he had done to forfeit theknight's confidence that behind his back Sir Walter secretly concertedmeans of escape. Had his cousin ceased to trust him?
Sir Walter wondered. Looking into that lean, crafty face, he consideredKing's unquenchable mistrust of the man, bethought him of his kinsman'sgeneral neediness, remembered past events that shed light upon his waysand nature, and began now at last to have a sense of the man's hypocrisyand double-dealing. Yet he reasoned in regard to him precisely as hehad reasoned in regard to Manourie. The fellow was acquisitive, andtherefore corruptible. If, indeed, he was so base that he had beenbought to betray Sir Walter, then he could be bought again to betraythose who had so bought him.
"Nay, nay," said Sir Walter easily. "It is not lack of trust in you, mygood friend. But you are the holder of an office, and knowing as I dothe upright honesty of your character I feared to embarrass you withthings whose very knowledge must give you the parlous choice of beingfalse to that office or false to me."
Stukeley broke forth into imprecations. He was, he vowed, the mostaccursed and miserable of men that such a task as this should havefallen to his lot. And he was a poor man, too, he would have his cousinremember. It was unthinkable that he should use the knowledge he hadgained to attempt to frustrate Sir Walter's plans of escape to France.And this notwithstanding that if Sir Walter escaped, it is certain hewould lose his office of Vice-Admiral and the six hundred pounds he hadpaid for it.
"As to that, you shall be at no loss," Sir Walter assured him. "I couldnot suffer it. I pledge you my honour, Lewis, that you shall have athousand pounds from my wife on the day that I am safely landed inFrance or Holland. Meanwhile, in earnest of what is to come, here is atoy of value for you." And he presented Sir Lewis with a jewel of price,a great ruby encrusted in diamonds.
Thus reassured that he would be immune from pecuniary loss, Sir Lewiswas ready to throw himself whole-heartedly into Sir Walter's plans,and to render him all possible
assistance. True, this assistance was acostly matter; there was this person to be bought and that one; therewere expenses here and expenses there, incurred by Sir Lewis on hiskinsman's behalf; and there were odd presents, too, which Stukeleyseemed to expect and which Sir Walter could not deny him. He had noillusions now that King had been right; that here he was dealing witha rogue who would exact the uttermost farthing for his services, buthe was gratified at the shrewdness with which he had taken his cousin'smeasure, and did not grudge the bribes by which he was to escape thescaffold.
De Chesne came again to the house in London, to renew his master's offerof a ship to carry Sir Walter overseas, and such other assistance as SirWalter might require But by now the knight's arrangements were complete.His servant Cotterell had come to inform him that his own boatswain,now in London, was the owner of a ketch, at present lying at Tilbury,admirably suited for the enterprise and entirely at Sir Walter'sdisposal. It had been decided, then, with the agreement of Captain King,that they should avail themselves of this; and accordingly Cotterellwas bidden desire the boatswain to have the craft made ready for sea atonce. In view of this, and anxious to avoid unnecessarily compromisingthe French envoy, Sir Walter gratefully declined the latter's offer.
And so we come at last to that July evening appointed for the flight.Ralegh, who, having for some time discarded the use of Manourie'sointment, had practically recovered his normal appearance, covering hislong white hair under a Spanish hat, and muffling the half of his facein the folds of a cloak, came to Wapping Stairs--that ill-omened placeof execution of pirates and sea-rovers--accompanied by Cotterell, whocarried the knight's cloak-bag, and by Sir Lewis and Sir Lewis's son.Out of solicitude for their dear friend and kinsman, the Stukeleys couldnot part from him until he was safely launched upon his voyage. At thehead of the stairs they were met by Captain King; at the foot of them aboat was waiting, as concerted, the boatswain at the tiller.
King greeted them with an air of obvious relief.
"You feared perhaps we should not come," said Stukeley, with a sneer atthe Captain's avowed mistrust of him. "Yet now, I trust, you'll do methe justice to admit that I have shown myself an honest man."
The uncompromising King looked at him and frowned, misliking the words.
"I hope that you'll continue so," he answered stiffly.
They went down the slippery steps to the boat, and then the shore glidedslowly past them as they pushed off into the stream of the ebbing tide.
A moment later, King, whose suspicious eyes kept a sharp look-out,observed another boat put off some two hundred yards higher up theriver. At first he saw it breast the stream as if proceeding towardsLondon Bridge, then abruptly swing about and follow them. Instantly hedrew the attention of Sir Walter to that pursuing wherry.
"What's this?" quoth Sir Walter harshly. "Are we betrayed?"
The watermen, taking fright at the words, hung now upon their oars.
"Put back," Sir Walter bade them. "I'll not betray my friends to nopurpose. Put back, and let us home again."
"Nay, now," said Stukeley gravely, himself watching the wherry. "We aremore than a match for them in oars, even if their purpose be such as yoususpect--for which suspicion, when all is said, there is no ground. Onthen!" He addressed himself to the watermen, whipping out a pistol, andgrowing truculent in mien and voice. "To your oars! Row, you dogs, orI'll pistol you where you sit."
The men bent their backs forthwith, and the boat swept on. But SirWalter was still full of apprehensions, still questioning the wisdom ofkeeping to their down-stream course if they were being followed.
"But are we followed?" cried the impatient Sir Lewis. "'Sdeath, cousin,is not the river a highway for all the world to use, and must everywherry that chances to go our way be in pursuit of us? If you are tohalt at every shadow, faith, you'll never accomplish anything. I vow Iam unfortunate in having a friend whom I would save so full of doubtsand fears."
Sir Walter gave him reason, and even King came to conclude that he hadsuspected him unjustly, whilst the rowers, under Stukeley's suasion,now threw themselves heartily into their task, and onward sped the boatthrough the deepening night, taking but little account of that otherwherry that hung ever in their wake. In this wise they came at length toGreenwich on the last of the ebb. But here finding the water beginningto grow against them, and wearied by the exertion into which Stukeley'senthusiasm had flogged them, the watermen paused again, declaring thatthey could not reach Gravesend before morning.
Followed a brief discussion, at the end of which Sir Walter bade themput him ashore at Purfleet.
"And that's the soundest counsel," quoth the boatswain. "For at Purfleetwe can get horses on to Tilbury."
Stukeley was of the same opinion; but not so the more practical CaptainKing.
"'Tis useless," he declared to them. "At this hour how shall you gethorses to go by land?"
And now, Sir Walter, looking over his shoulder, saw the other wherrybearing down upon them through the faintly opalescent mists of dawn. Ahail came to them across the water.
"Oh, 'Sdeath! We are betrayed!" cried Ralegh bitterly, and Stukeleyswore more fiercely still. Sir Walter turned to him. "Put ashore," hesaid shortly, "and let us home."
"Ay, perhaps 'twere best. For to-night there's an end to the enterprise,and if I am taken in your company now, what shall be said to me for thisactive assistance in your escape?" His voice was gloomy, his face drawnand white.
"Could you not plead that you had but pretended to go with me to seizeon my private papers?" suggested the ingenious mind of Ralegh.
"I could. But shall I be believed? Shall I?" His loom was deepening todespair.
Ralegh was stricken almost with remorse on his cousin's account. Hisgenerous heart was now more concerned with the harm to his friends thanwith his own doom. He desired to make amends to Stukeley, but had nomeans save such as lay in the power of that currency he used. Havingnaught else to give, he must give that. He plunged his hand into aninner pocket, and brought forth a handful of jewels, which he thrustupon his kinsman.
"Courage," he urged him. "Up now, and we may yet win out and home, sothat all will be well with you at least, and you shall not suffer foryour friendship to me."
Stukeley embraced him then, protesting his love and desire to serve him.
They came to land at last, just below Greenwich bridge, and almost atthe same moment the other wherry grounded immediately above them. Mensprang from her, with the obvious intent of cutting off their retreat.
"Too late!" said Ralegh, and sighed, entirely without passion now thatthe dice had fallen and showed that the game was lost. "You must act onmy suggestion to explain your presence, Lewis."
"Indeed, there is no other course," Sir Lewis agreed. "And you are inthe same case, Captain King. You must confess that you joined with mebut to betray Sir Walter. I'll bear you out. Thus, each supporting theother..."
"I'll roast in Hell before I brand myself a traitor," roared the Captainfuriously. "And were you an honest man, Sir Lewis, you'ld understand mymeaning."
"So, so?" said Stukeley, in a quiet, wicked voice. And it was observedthat his son and one or two of the watermen had taken their stand besidehim as if in readiness for action. "Why, then, since you will have itso, Captain, I arrest you, in the King's name, on a charge of abettingtreason."
The Captain fell back a step, stricken a moment by sheer amazement. Thenhe groped for a pistol to do at last what he realized he should havedone long since. Instantly he was overpowered. It was only then that SirWalter understood the thing that had happened, and with understandingcame fury. The old adventurer flung back his cloak, and snatched at hisrapier to put it through the vitals of his dear friend and kinsman. Buthe was too late. Hands seized upon him, and he found himself held by themen from the wherry, confronted by a Mr. William Herbert, whom he knewfor Stukeley's cousin, and he heard Mr. Herbert formally asking him forthe surrender of his sword.
Instantly he governed himself, repressed his fury. He loo
ked coldly athis kinsman, whose face showed white and evil in the growing light ofthe early summer dawn "Sir Lewis," was all he said, "these actions willnot turn out to your credit."
He had no illusion left. His understanding was now a very full one. Hisdear friend and kinsman had played him false throughout, intending firstto drain him of his resources before finally flinging the empty husk tothe executioner. Manourie had been in the plot; he had run with the hareand hunted with the hounds; and Sir Walter's own servant Cotterell haddone no less. Amongst them they had "cozened the great cozener"--to useStukeley's own cynical expression. Even so, it was only on his trialthat Sir Walter plumbed the full depth of Stukeley's baseness; for itwas only then he learnt that his kinsman had been armed by a warrantof immunity to assist his projects of escape, so that he might the moreeffectively incriminate and betray him; and Sir Walter discovered alsothat the ship in which he had landed, and other matters, were to provideadditional Judas' fees to this acquisitive betrayer.
If to escape his enemies Sir Walter had had recourse to artificesunworthy the great hero that he was, now that all hope was lost heconducted himself with a dignity and cheerfulness beyond equal. Socalm and self-possessed and masterly was his defence from the charge ofpiracy preferred at the request of Spain, and so shrewd in its inflamingappeal to public opinion, that his judges were constrained to abandonthat line of prosecution, and could discover no way of giving his headto King James save by falling back upon the thirteen-year old sentenceof death against him. Of this they now ordered execution.
Never a man who loved his life as dearly as Sir Walter loved it metdeath as blithely. He dressed himself for the scaffold with thatelegance and richness which all his life he had observed. He wore a ruffband and black velvet wrought nightgown over a doublet of hair-colouredsatin, a black wrought waistcoat, black cut taffety breeches andash-coloured silk stockings. Under his plumed hat he covered his whitelocks with a wrought nightcap. This last he bestowed on his way to thescaffold upon a bald-headed old man who had come to take a last look ofhim, with the observation that he was more in need of it than himself.When he had removed it, it was observed that his hair was not curled asusual. This was a matter that had fretted his barber Peter in the prisonof the Gatehouse at Westminster that morning. But Sir Walter had put himoff with a laugh and a jest.
"Let them comb it that shall have it," he had said of his own head.
Having taken his leave of the friends who had flocked about him withthe observation that he had a long journey before him, he called forthe axe, and, when presented to him, ran his fingers along the edge, andsmiled.
"Sharp medicine," quoth he, "but a sound cure for all diseases."
When presently the executioner bade him turn his head to the East:
"It is no great matter which way a man's head stands, so that his heartlies right," he said.
Thus passed one of England's greatest heroes, indeed one of the verymakers of this England, and than his death there is no more shamefulblot upon the shameful reign of that pusillanimous James, unclean ofbody and of soul, who sacrificed him to the King of Spain.
A spectator of his death, who suffered for his words--as men must eversuffer for the regardless utterance of Truth--declared that England hadnot such another head to cut off.
As for Stukeley, the acquisitiveness which had made a Judas of him wasdestined, by a poetic justice, ever desired but rarely forthcoming forknaves, soon to be his ruin. He was caught diminishing the gold coin ofthe realm by the operation known to-day as "clipping," and with him wastaken his creature Manourie, who, to save himself, turned chief witnessagainst Stukeley. Sir Lewis was sentenced to death, but saved himselfby purchasing his pardon at the cost of every ill-gotten shilling hepossessed, and he lived thereafter as bankrupt of means as he was ofhonour.
Yet before all this happened, Sir Lewis had for his part in Sir WalterRalegh's death come to be an object of execration throughout the land,and to be commonly known as "Sir Judas." At Whitehall he sufferedrebuffs and insults that found a climax in the words addressed to him bythe Lord Admiral, to whom he went to give an account of his office.
"Base fellow, darest thou who art the contempt and scorn of men offerthyself in my presence?"
For a man of honour there was but one course. Sir Judas was not a man ofhonour. He carried his grievance to the King. James leered at him.
"What wouldst thou have me do? Wouldst thou have me hang him? On mysoul, if I should hang all that speak ill of thee, all the trees of thecountry would not suffice, so great is the number."