SEA-DOGS ALL!
A Tale of Forest and Sea
by
TOM BEVAN
Author of "Red Dickon the Outlaw," "The Fen Robbers," etc., etc.
[Frontispiece: Dolly stood near the fire, her face rosy with the heat]
Thomas Nelson and SonsLondon, Edinburgh, Dublin, and New York1911
CONTENTS.
I. The Man in Black II. The Plotters III. Two Friends IV. Johnnie Morgan takes a Walk V. Master Windybank VI. A Sinister Meeting VII. In the Toils VIII. Master Windybank walks abroad IX. The Hunt X. Master Windybank rebels XI. Darkness and the River XII. Snaring a Flock of Night Ravens XIII. A Double Fight XIV. What happened in Westbury Steeple XV. A Letter from Court XVI. To London Town XVII. Sir Walter as Chaperon XVIII. Three Broken Mariners XIX. Paignton Rob's Story XX. Rob dines at "Ye Swanne" XXI. Morgan goes to Whitehall XXII. The Queen XXIII. Johnnie sees many Sights XXIV. Two Chance Wayfarers XXV. Brother Basil XXVI. All on a bright March Morning XXVII. In Plymouth XXVIII. The Parlour of the "Blue Dolphin" XXIX. The Widow's House XXX. Ho! for the Spanish Main XXXI. In the Bay of San Joseph XXXII. A Glimpse of the Fabled City XXXIII. Wandering in a Maze XXXIV. Flood and Fever XXXV. A Foe XXXVI. The Attack on the Village XXXVII. Council Fires in Two Places XXXVIII. The Way back XXXIX. John Oxenham's Creek XL. A Haven of Peace XLI. The Trap XLII. Captives XLIII. In Panama XLIV. The Trial XLV. For Faith and Country! XLVI. The Galley Slaves XLVII. Hernando speaks XLVIII. The Revolt of the Slaves XLIX. Eastward Ho! L. Home LI. The Forest again--and the Sea
List of Illustrations
Cover art
Dolly stood near the fire, her face rosy with the heat . . _Frontispiece_
The odds were hopelessly against him.
SEA-DOGS ALL!
Chapter I.
THE MAN IN BLACK.
The river-path along the Severn shore at Gatcombe was almost knee-deepwith turbid water, and only a post here and there showed where riverordinarily ended and firm land began. Fishers and foresters stood inthe pelting rain and buffeting wind anxiously calculating what havocthe sudden summer storm might work, helpless themselves to put forth ahand to save anything from its fury. Stout doors and firm casements(both were needed in the river-side hamlet) bent with the fury of thesou'-wester that beat upon them. The tide roared up the narrowingestuary like a mill-race, and the gale tore off the tops of the waves,raised them with the lashing raindrops, and hurled both furiouslyagainst everything that fringed the shore. Gatcombe Pill leapt andplunged muddily between its high, red banks, and the yellow tide surgedup the opening and held back the seething waters like a dam. There wasblack sky above, and many-coloured earth and water below.
The lading jetty against the village only appeared at odd moments abovethe tumult of waters, and a couple of timber ships that lay on thenorth side, partially loaded, were plunging and leaping at their anchorcables like two dogs at the end of their chains. Great oaken logsbobbed up and down like corks, or raced with the current upstream; theproduct of many weeks' timber-cutting in the forest would be scatteredas driftwood from Gloucester to the shores of Devon and Wales.
On the high bank above Gatcombe, one other man, half hidden by thethick trees, braved the fury of the storm. There was nothing of thefisher or forester about him; the pale, worn face and the tall, leanfigure soberly clad in black betokened the monk or the scholar, butclaimed no kinship with them that toiled in the woodlands or won aliving from the dangerous sea. Leaning against a giant beech thatrocked in wild rhythm with the storm, he watched the wind and tide attheir work of devastation, an odd smile of satisfaction playing aboutthe corners of his thin lips.
"A hundred candles to St. James for this tempest!" he murmured. "Ifthe ships do but break loose and get aground, I will tramp Christendomfor the money to build him a church." But though the man in blackwatched the river for the space of two hours longer, his hopes of utterdestruction were unrealized; the cables held, the rain ceased, the windabated, and the tide began to run seawards once more. Bit by bit thejetty rose above the swirling waters. Inshore the sands of theriver-bed were uncovered, and the fishers and wharfmen swarmed alongthem and on the pier, saving from the sea the logs of oak that werewithin reach. For a while the man on the cliff watched them; then heturned aside into the dripping recesses of the forest. "Comfortthyself," he said, tapping his bosom as he walked; "the omens are good.What water hath commenced, the fire shall finish!"
Almost upon the instant a sturdy figure broke from the bushes aboveGatcombe Pill and hurried along the cliff towards the harbour.Deep-chested, full-throated, weather-stained, compacted of brawn andsinew, he looked the ruddy-faced, daring sailor-man, every inch of him.From crown to toe he was clad in homely gray; but if, on the one hand,the ass peeps out from the borrowed lion's skin, so will royalty shinethrough fustian; and the newcomer had the air of a king among men. Hehallooed to the ships, and then hastily scrambled down the cliff.
Only the groaning of the trees and rustling of the undergrowth hid thefootfalls of the man in black from the ears of the man in gray. He waslooking for him, but the time when they should meet was not yet come.