CHAPTER III.
THE MAN WITH THE SCARRED CHEEK.
On a certain afternoon in December, Gilbert Oglander and TimothyTrollope were loitering on the heights of Plymouth Hoe on their way intothe town. They were looking out across the Sound, watching the movementsof a ship that was drifting inward with the tide. A breeze from off thesea swelled the vessel's worn and mended topsails; she moved with aslow, lazy motion, as if in very weariness. The lads were questioningwhat manner of ship she might be and whence she had come.
"'Tis an old Hollander putting in for repairs," ventured Gilbert. "Iwarrant me she hath suffered some damage in the storm of yesternight."
Timothy shook his head, and then, after a short pause, he said:
"No, Master Gilbert, she is no foreigner at all, but one of our ownbrave English adventurers. Look at the tattered flag waving from thestaff on her after-castle. 'Tis the red cross of St. George. And by thedecayed and grimy look of her, I'd judge that she hath been on some longand perilous voyage--it may be to far Cathay, or the scorching coasts ofAfrica, or it may even be to the Western Indies of which we have heardso much."
"An that be so," returned Gilbert as he stood gazing with wonderingeyes upon the approaching ship, "methinks there will be some verystrange surprising things for us to see and hear when she droppethanchor in the haven yonder. She is deeply laden, look you. 'Tis the barsof silver in her hold that do weigh her down, or else the heavy chestsof gold and precious stones. Ay, 'tis surely from the Spanish Main thatshe hath come; for now as she beareth round I can e'en see the shininggold-dust clinging to her sides from out her port-holes like flour-driftfrom out the windows of Modbury Mill."
Timothy smiled incredulously and moved apart from his companion.
"'Tis no gold-dust that you see, my master," said he, "but only the rediron from off her rust-eaten chains. Come, let us walk down unto theharbour, that we may get a nearer view of her and see what manner ofvoyagers she bringeth home."
They walked together down the grassy slopes. In aspect, as in theirnatures, they differed one from the other as much as a heavy Flemishhorse differs from an agile Arab steed. Timothy looked much the elder,although in truth he was his master's senior by no more than atwelvemonth. Gilbert had much ado to keep pace with his long measuredstrides, or perhaps it was his own great riding-boots of thick hardleather coming up above his knees which made his steps seem difficult.The strong December wind, blowing from over the Channel, caught hisample cloak, and the garment was forever escaping from his carelesshold and flapping outward behind him, assailing his ears or gettingtwisted about his long sword. As the cloak blew aside from his shouldersit revealed the pink silk slashings of his doublet of russet velvet andthe glittering ornaments on his girdle. He wore a little velvet cap,embroidered with gold lace and surmounted with a gallant waving featherwhich was held in place by a pearl brooch.
Timothy towered a full head and shoulders above him, being indeed almosta man in height and build, with great broad shoulders and big stronghands and muscular arms, and plump cheeks that were as red as ripe Devonapples. But in spite of his great bulk and his somewhat ungainly figure,Tim was nevertheless alert and active when occasion required, as many ofhis acquaintance were well aware; for at a wrestling bout, at fencing,riding, climbing, swimming, and many other manly exercises, there werefew who could excel him. He was dressed very plainly now, as beseemedone whose work it was to serve and to obey. His cap, which was setjauntily on his head of curly red hair, was not of silk or velvet, butsimple knitted wool, unadorned with any gay-coloured ribbons orflaunting feathers. He wore no lace ruff about his thick neck, but onlya simple white linen collar. His body was covered by a doublet of plaintan-coloured leather; his wide trunks were of fustian, trimmed withcotton braid and gartered below the knee; and he wore low shoes withoutany spurs. Like his young master, he carried a sword; and he also had inhis belt a small dagger. He was well skilled in the use of both theseweapons, and during the months that he had passed in Master Oglander'sservice he had imparted much of this skill to Gilbert.
By the time that the two had got down to the level ground, and hadpassed through several of the quaint narrow streets leading towards theharbour, the strange ship had sailed far to the eastward of Mill Bay;her men were aloft furling the sails, and she was slowly drifting withthe tide into the sheltered basin of Sutton Pool.
Some fishermen and seamen had gathered in groups upon the wharf to watchher as she came nearer, and to make conjectures as to what might be hername and whence she had come. Gilbert Oglander strode into their midstand stood awhile listening to their talk.
"'Tis a full three years since she sailed out of Plymouth Sound," saidone of them.
"Ay, and the rest!" declared another. "Why, 'twas in the summer of 1586that she went out--in the self-same month, if not the same week, thatThomas Cavendish sailed with his three ships to make the voyage roundthe world, and that, as I do reckon it, must be nigh upon four years andsix months; though in truth it seemeth less. But the years do flyamazingly in these busy times!"
"Know you the name of this vessel that is now coming in, MasterWhiddon?" asked Gilbert of a brown-faced mariner at his elbow.
"Ay, to be sure, Master Oglander," returned Whiddon. "We do make her outto be the _Pearl_--one of Sir Walter Raleigh's ships--that went outalong with two others upon a voyage of adventure to the Brazil, or somesuch place. Master Will Marsden, of Plymouth, was her captain; an oldplaymate of mine own, and a right fortunate seamen in his younger days.Well do I mind how we all envied him when he set out on this samevoyage. But alas! by the look of his ship at this moment, and the factthat he hath come home alone and unattended, I much doubt that he hathleft the better part of his good fortune behind him. Ah, there beblackamoors aboard of her!"
"Ay," interposed another of the group, who by his apron and histurned-up sleeves was evidently an artisan and a landsman. "And atseaman's work too. A woeful sign, my masters! Where be all the brave menof Devon that set sail in her, I'd like to know? Down among the coraland the shrimps at the bottom of the sea, I suppose, or else toiling inSpanish galleys, imprisoned by the Inquisition, or lying dead with thecrows a-picking of their bones out yonder in Panama. 'Tis ever so withthese buccaneering cruises. I like them not, for they do ever end withdisaster."
"Thou'rt over-quick with thy conjectures, Jack Prynne," said the mannamed Whiddon. "The craft is short-handed, 'tis true; but how know youthat the brave men you speak of have not given up their lives for oldEngland in honest fight against the Spaniards? Had you yourself been asbrave as they--God rest 'em!--you would not have taken flight fromPlymouth the last week, as you did with the other timid fools, becauseof a mere idle alarm that the king of Spain was sending over anotherarmada, forsooth. A brave thing, truly, thus to take to your heels. Why,man, I marvel that y'are not ashamed to show your craven face in thetown again!"
Jack Prynne stroked his beard, partly hiding his shamed face with hisbig work-worn hand.
"When we went away," said he, "the town was ill-defended. Sir FrancisDrake was absent."
"The more reason why every man should have remained to protect his homeand do his duty by his neighbours," returned Whiddon. "Drake cannot wellbe in two places at once. What astonisheth me is, that you should allhave come trooping back the instant you heard that Sir Francis had againtaken up his residence in the town. Sure, 'tis a very high compliment toa man when his mere presence among us should inspire such confidence andallay such a general panic."
"There goes her anchor!" cried Timothy Trollope. And as he spoke therewas a splash of water at the ship's bow, followed by the familiarrumbling noise of her hempen cable as it tore through the hawse-pipe.
Now that the vessel was close at hand it could be seen that she wasvery much battered by the storms and conflicts through which she hadpassed during her long voyaging in distant seas. The lower timbers ofher hull were overgrown with barnacles and slimy green weeds. Above thewater-line there
were many shot-holes, patched up with raw hides, sheetsof lead, or rough-hewn balks of wood; and in one place, abaft hermain-chains, a cannon-ball could be seen deeply embedded in the stoutoak. In place of her original mizzen-mast there was the trunk of aforest tree, with the bark still upon it; and the lateen yard was madeof spliced bamboo. Her standing rigging was mended with strands oftwisted cow-hide. She was a ship of about a hundred tons burden, builtwith a high castle at her poop and with bulging sides. Her bows were asround and blunt as the breasts of the noisy sea-birds that floated nearher in the harbour, feeding on the garbage thrown from thefishing-boats.
She had not long been at anchor when a boat was put off from her, andwas rowed by two men towards the stone-built slip beside which GilbertOglander and Timothy Trollope were standing. The boat had four occupantsin addition to the two seamen who pulled at the oars. They were ablack-bearded, middle-aged man who sat on the stern gunwale, and whoseemed by his frequent commands to the rowers to be in authority; awoman, who sat near him; a beardless youth, who was crouching down inthe bottom of the boat; and an aged, white-haired man, with a brownsunburned face and a long silvery beard, who was bending forward overthe prow as if in desperate eagerness to spring on shore.
As the little craft came yet nearer, Timothy Trollope observed that thepassengers seemed to be no less weary and tattered than the ship fromwhich they had just come. The old man at the bow wore no clothing save aragged canvas shirt and a pair of wide, ill-made trunks. One of therowers had but a single sleeve to his jerkin, and his hair was long andmatted. The woman wore a large black cloak, whose hood was drawn overher head, leaving visible no more of her than her thin olive-colouredface and her sparkling dark eyes. She paid scarcely any regard to whatwas passing, but sat like an image, gazing stonily before her.
"Ship your oar, Pascoe!" cried the man at the stern. "Pull three morestrokes, Mason!"
He rose to his feet as he gave these orders, showing himself to be verytall. None of the men on shore seemed to know him; nor did he greetthem, even as a stranger newly arrived from foreign climes might havebeen expected to do.
The old man at the bow was the first to leap on shore. And, having doneso, he fell down upon his knees, reverently pressed his lips upon thestones, and murmured the words:
"Thanks be to God! Thanks be to God!"
Then he stood up beside the boat and held it by the gunwale while thewoman and the two other passengers stepped ashore.
Gilbert Oglander paid but small regard to them, little dreaming of theimportant parts they were destined to play in his life. He only noticedas they passed him that the tall man's otherwise handsome face wasmarred by an unsightly scar on the right cheek, that the youth seemed tobe about sixteen years of age, and that the woman, when she spoke toeither of her companions, did so in a foreign tongue.
The youth who had come ashore paused for a moment, tightening hissword-belt, and as he did so he glanced aside at the old man.
"Art going back to the ship, Jacob?" he inquired with seemingcarelessness, yet with a look of strange eagerness in his dark eyes asif much depended upon the veteran's answer.
The graybeard slowly shook his head, and the deep-drawn sigh that issuedfrom his lips seemed to Gilbert Oglander to betoken a whole world ofpast troubles and present gratitude.
"Wherefore should I go back, Master Philip?" said he in a husky voice."Have I not had enough of the pestilent old hulk, think you? I have doneall that was needed of me, I trow; and since, as you well know, I didbut engage to work my passage home, there be no wages due to me and weare quits. As to my worldly belongings," he added with a hollow, uneasylaugh as he rested his bony hand upon the leathern bag that hung at hisside, "this wallet containeth all my chattels and goods. Ay, all that Iam worth in the world. And little enough, you'll be saying, as the soleoutcome of all my perils and wanderings. Howbeit," he went on, notheeding that the young man had already passed beyond hearing and wascontinuing his way up the slip, "there's but small use in complaining.And after all, God hath been truly merciful in that He hath brought mesafely back to my dear native land. Sure 'tis worth all my twenty-threeyears of voyaging to be back once more in Plymouth town and to again setfoot on English ground!"
A gust of cold wind blew round one of the stone piers of the wharf nearwhich he lingered. He shivered slightly, and drew his ragged canvasshirt closer about his bare chest and neck. Then his moist blue eyessurveyed the group of men who now stood apart watching the boatreturning to the ship.
"I don't see none o' my old friends among you, my masters," said he,looking from one to the other. "You'm all strangers to me. Andperadventure I am as great a stranger to yourselves. But the time hathbeen when I was as well known in Plymouth as the tower of St. Andrew'schurch yonder." A forced, unnatural smile flitted about the parched bluelips as he added, addressing no one in particular: "Jacob Hartop is myname--Jacob Hartop that went out with John Hawkins in the year 1567, andthat hath now come home after three-and-twenty years of foreigntravel and fighting and slavish toil."
"GOD HATH BEEN TRULY MERCIFUL IN THAT HE HATH BROUGHT ME SAFELY BACK"]
He held out his hand to grasp that of one of the older men who stoodnear. As he did so Timothy Trollope noticed that his wrist bore anindented mark upon it, as if it had been too tightly clasped by abracelet. Several of the bystanders now shook hands with him.
"Thou'rt welcome home, friend Hartop," said one.
"God give you peace and joy, my master!" said another.
"And may you never need to wander from England's shores again!" said athird.
Captain Whiddon then stepped forward, and said he:
"Be you related to young George Hartop that fell in the great fightagainst the Invincible Armada of Spain?"
Jacob Hartop stared blankly before him. It was evident that he knewnaught of the great fight referred to. He was about to answer when thetouch of a hand on his thin bare arm caused him to turn suddenly round,and he stood face to face with Gilbert Oglander.
"Thou'rt thinly clad, and the wind blows cold," said Gilbert as he tookoff his cloak and spread it over the ancient traveller's shoulder. "Ipray you take this cloak."
The old man drew back.
"Nay, I can take no such goodly gift from one who doth owe me no mannerof kindness," he declared, attempting to remove the garment. "Believeme, I am not so cold but that a walk and a flagon of ale will warm me."But seeing that the offer was seriously meant he relented, and, fixinghis tearful eyes upon Gilbert, he said: "Now, prithee, my gallant youngsir, what might be your honour's name? Tell me, so that I may bear it inmemory, and think of you with the gratitude that I do truly feel."
Gilbert Oglander made a light pretence of not having heard the question,and, followed by Timothy, he strode gaily up to the head of the slip.
The tall man with the scar on his cheek was at this moment crossing themuddy roadway with his two companions towards a house with heavyoverhanging gables, that stood at the corner of one of the alleys. Itwas a tavern, as could be known by the fact that the window latticeswere painted red, and it bore the sign of the Three Flagons. Thestranger had to bend down his head as he entered the low porchway.
"Truly a man may be known by the hostelry he chooseth," remarked TimothyTrollope as he saw the woman's skirts disappear behind the door-post. "Ihad thought by their favour that these people were of high station andgood breeding, and that by their great haste to quit their ship theywere intent upon travelling yet farther into the country, haply to somefamous old estate. But 'tis plain to see that they do intend to abide atthe humble Three Flagons. 'Tis a cheap inn and an ill-managed.Nevertheless, I should engage that they will have better comfort withalthan on board the cranky old _Pearl_. Think you that the man with thewounded cheek is her captain?"
Gilbert shrugged his shoulders.
"A ship's master would scarcely be the first to quit her on coming intoport," said he; "although, indeed, it may well be that the man'sgallantry hath brought him ashore thus speedily in his
wish to place thewoman and her son in decent lodgings."
"And, prithee, wherefore do you so readily make up your mind that thelad is her son?" inquired Timothy.
"For the simple and plain reason that her eyes and his have got theself-same foreign look in them," answered Gilbert. "But wherefore shouldwe discuss these people? Foreigners as they are, they can be of noearthly interest to us, now or hereafter. As to the ship, well, had webut gone aboard of her we might have learned something of more valuetouching the adventures she hath gone through; but as the matter stands,Tim, we have but wasted a good half-hour of time, and shall not now behome until after dark."