Sir Ludar Part 44

"Humphrey," said he, on a night when, although the gale was slackening fast, it was plain, even to him, the end of this voyage was near, "your master will need to wait for his type. Come and stand by me here, for there is nothing else to be done for the brave ship now. I would have liked to save her for the sake of one who once stood at this very helm.

But it seems to me we are near our last plunge."

"Perhaps," said I, "G.o.d has not done with us yet, and those who pray for us pray not in vain."

Here the _Misericorde_ reeled upwards on a huge wave. For a moment she hung quivering on the top, and then plunged into the trough.

I felt Ludar's hand on my arm, and caught sight of his face, steady and stern, with a flash in his eyes as he looked ahead. He was right. It was the _Misericorde's_ last plunge; for, instead of righting herself, she seemed entangled in the water, and, like one who writhes to get free, heeled half over on her side. Then, before she could recover, up came the next wave, towering high over our heads, and fell like a mountain upon us.

The next thing I was aware of was that I was clinging to a spar in the water, with a strong arm around me, and a voice in my ear:

"Hold on, hold on!"

Then, when I opened my eyes, I saw Ludar and some floating timbers, and nothing more.

But towards one of these timbers he was striking out desperately, which proved to be a small boat, bottom uppermost, which had lain on the deck, and which having been wrenched from its cords, had floated free of the wreck. Between us we reached it, and, with much labour, turned it over.

It had neither oars nor sail. Yet, as we clung to it, we could see it was sound of bottom, and would at least hold the two of us.

How we got in, I know not; yet, I think, between two waves, Ludar steadied it while I got in, and then between the next two, I hauled him in. At first, it seemed, in this c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l, we were little better off than clinging to the spar, for every wave threatened to swamp it. Yet by G.o.d's mercy it carried us somehow.

Not a sign could we see of any of our late shipmates. Only once, a body, clutching at a board, even in death, crossed us. And when we reached out and hauled it to, it was one of the sailors, not drowned, but with his skull broken.

Presently, as I said, the waves grew less, and drifted us we knew not whither, save that it was far from where we had gone down, with no land or sun in view, nothing but a howling waste of waves, and we two at its mercy.

Ludar and I looked at one another grimly. It was no time for talking or wondering what next. For nearly two days we had not tasted food or moistened our lips; and here we were, perhaps a week or a month from land, in a bare boat on a hungry sea. Might we not as well have gone down with the _Misericorde_?

The daylight went, and presently it was too dark even to see my comrade across the little boat. The last I saw of him he had closed his eyes, and seemed to be composing himself for sleep. But I guessed it was the sleep, not of weariness, but of hunger. The night went on; and presently I could hear him mutter in his sleep. He fancied himself still in the Tower with his warder, whom he charged with messages to me and the maiden. And sometimes he was in the presence of the Scotch Queen, and sometimes in Dunluce with his father. It was all a fevered jumble of talk, which made the night seem weird and horrible to me, and full of dread for the day that was to come.

When it dawned, which it did early, the sea was tumbling wearily, shrouded in a thick mist, which chilled me where I sat, and blotted out everything beyond a little s.p.a.ce around the boat. Ludar by this time was awake, but still wandering in his mind with hunger and fever; while I, after my sleepless night, felt my eyelids grow heavy.

How long I slept I know not; but I know I dreamt I was at the foot of the great rock of Dunluce, and looking up could just spy a light on the battlements, and hear a gun and the shout of battle on the top; when suddenly I woke and found it was more than a dream.

High above my head in the mist there loomed a light, and from beyond it there sounded the tolling of a bell, and, as I thought, a clash of arms.

I looked across at Ludar, and saw him, too, looking up, but too weak to speak or move. Then the light seemed to plunge downwards, towards us, showing us a huge black outline of a ship, within a few yards of where we drifted.

Instantly I sprang to my feet and shouted, and called to Ludar to do the same. For a moment it seemed we were unheeded. The light swung once more upwards, and after it the great ship, carrying a swirl of water with it, and throwing off a whirlpool of little eddies, in which our boat spun and shook like a leaf in a torrent. Again we shouted, frantically. And then it seemed the bell ceased tolling, and instead there came a call; after that something sharp struck me on the cheek, and flinging up my hand I caught a cord, and felt the boat's keel grind sharply against the side of the great ship.

What I next remember was standing bewildered on the deck, amidst a crowd of soldiers, many of whom wore bright steel armour, and who exercised on the heaving planks well-nigh as steadily as on dry ground. The deck was ablaze with pennons and scutcheons. Somewhere near, the noise of trumpets rose above the roar of the waves. The sun, as it struggled through the mist, flashed on the bra.s.s of guns, and the jewels of sword- hilts. The p.o.o.p behind rose like a stately house, illumined with its swinging lanthorns. Now and again there flitted past me a long-robed priest, to whom all bowed, and after him boys with swaying censers.

There was a neighing of horses amidships, and a tolling of bells in the forecastle. The great bellying sails glittered with painted dragons and eagles and sun-bursts. And the men who lined the crosstrees and crowded the tops shouted and answered in a tongue that was new to me. Above all, higher than the helmsman's house or the standard on the p.o.o.p, shone out a gilded cross, which looked over all the ship.

Little wonder if, as I slowly looked round me and rubbed my eyes, I knew not where I was.

But Ludar, standing near me, steadying himself with the cordage, called me to myself.

"This must be a Spaniard," said he, faintly.

"A Spaniard!" gasped I, "an enemy to our Queen and--"

"Look yonder," said he, stopping me and pointing seaward, where the mist was lifting apace.

There I could discern, as far as my eyes could reach, a great curved line of vessels, many of them like that on which I stood; some larger and grander, some smaller and propelled by oars; all with flags flying and signals waving, and their course pointed all one way.

Not even I, landsman as I was, could mistake what I saw. This could be naught else but the great fleet of the Spanish King, of whose coming we had heard rumours for a year past, but in which I for one had not really believed till thus suddenly I found myself standing on the deck of one of its greatest galleons.

In the horror of the discovery, my first impulse was to fling myself back into the waves from which I had been saved; my second was to seize my sword and fly at the first man I saw, and so die for my country then and there.

But, alas! I was too weak to do either. When I took a step it was to fall in a heap on the deck, faint with hunger, wrath, and shame.

When I came to, I lay in a dark cabin, and Ludar, scarcely less pallid than I, sat beside me.

"Come on deck," said he, "this place is stifling. If the Dons mean to make an end of us, they may as well do it at once."

So, bracing himself up to lend me an arm, he made for the deck.

A sentinel stood at the gangway, whom Ludar, brushing past, bade, in round English, give us food, and lead us to the captain.

The man stared in surprise, and muttered something in Spanish, which, as luck would have it, Ludar, mindful of his smattering of Spanish, learned at Oxford, understood to mean we were to remain below.

Whereupon he pulled me forward, and defied the fellow to put us back.

We might possibly have been run through then and there, had not a soldier, who had overheard our parley, come up.

"Are you English?" said he, in our own tongue.

"My comrade is English, I am Irish," said Ludar, "and unless we have food forthwith, we are not even that."

"I am an Irishman myself," said the soldier, who, by his trappings, was an officer, "therefore come and have some food."

I know I felt then hard put to it, whether, despite my famine, I could eat food in such a place and from such hands. But I persuaded myself, if I was to die so soon, I might as well meet death with a full stomach as an empty.

While we ate, the Irishman questioned. Ludar as to his name and the part of Ireland he lived in. He himself was the son of a southern chief--one Desmond; and, after living some years in Spain, was now attached to the enemy's forces. He was close enough as to the movements of the fleet, and so soon as he had seen us fed, he bade us come with him to the Don.

The deck was as crowded as Fleet Street, and, as we pa.s.sed to the p.o.o.p, very few of these gay Spaniards took the trouble to look after us, or wonder how we came there. Only, when Ludar, as we reached the commander's door, suddenly took his sword and flung it out to sea, did a few of them stare. I followed my comrade's example. The sea had as much right to my weapon as a Spaniard, and I was thankful to see that Ludar, in this respect, was of the same mind with me.

In the cabin was a tall, elderly, slightly built man, clad in a fine black steel breastplate, with a crested helmet on the table before him.

He stood bending over a chart, which several of his officers were also examining; and as he looked quickly up at our entry, I was surprised at the fairness of his complexion and the grave mildness of his demeanour.

Our Irish guide briefly explained who we were and how we came on board.

Don Alonzo--for that was his name--eyed us keenly; and addressing Ludar, said in a broken English:

"You are Irish. Your name?"

"Ludar McSorley McDonnell of Dunluce and the Glynns," said Ludar.

The commander said something to one of his officers, who presently laid a map of Ireland on the table, and placed his finger on the spot where Dunluce was situated.

"Senor has no sword. Your calling?"

"My sword is in the sea. It belonged to my father, my mistress, and myself," said Ludar, shortly.