Sir Mortimer Part 18

Yonder within the chamber are suits from which you may choose. Pray you dress at once."

A faint red swept into the other's countenance. "If I do as you bid, I may not go unrecognized. I say not, 'Spare me this, John Nevil!' I only ask, 'Is it wise?'... Sir Francis Drake is commander here. Four years ago he swore that you were too merciful, that in your place he would have played hangsman to me more blithely than he played headsman to Thomas Doughty."

"I sail not under Francis Drake," Nevil answered. "Meeting me with two goodly ships at the Terceiras, he was fain enough to have me join my force to his. Over my own I hold command, and I shall claim you as my own. But you have no fear of Francis Drake! Is it your thought that your shield is forever reversed, and that you are only welcome, only unashamed, yonder where sickness stretches forth its hands, and Death gives back before you? If it is so, yet be that which you are!--No Spanish friar, but English knight and gentleman. If it be known to high and low that once you fell, then face that knowledge with humility of heart, with simplicity, but with the outward ease and bearing of that estate in which G.o.d placed you. This garb becomes you not, who are yet a soldier of England. Away with it!--then in singleness of mind press onward along thy rocky road until G.o.d calls thee at last to His green meadows, to His high city. Ah, my friend! I give but poor and meagre words to that I read within thy eyes. There is no need for me to speak at all when thy lit soul looks out upon me!"

The dawn began to show faint splendors, and the winds of morning drove aslant the candle flames. Ferne shook his head and his countenance darkened somewhat with vain regrets and sharp memories of old agonies.

"Not that, my friend! I am changed, but G.o.d knows--not I--what other change would come did He lift His rod. Once I thought I knew all right from all wrong, all darkness from all light--yea, and I strove to practise that knowledge.... I think now that to every man may come an hour when pride and a.s.surance go down--when for evermore he hath that wisdom that he no longer knows himself." He smiled. "But I will do what you ask, John. It were strange, were it not, if I refused you this?" As he pa.s.sed Nevil, the two touched hands again. Another moment and the door of the inner room closed upon him. Sir John, awaiting his return, began to quench the candles one by one, for there was no need of other light than the flooding dawn.

Some minutes had pa.s.sed, when a knock at the outward door interrupted his employment. Crossing the floor, he opened to Sir Francis Drake, who stood alone upon the threshold, his escort trampling down the stone stairs to the hall beneath. Nevil uttered an exclamation, which the other met with his bluff, short laugh.

"So you as well as I have let the jade Sleep slip by this night!" He brushed past Nevil into the room. "I gave it up an hour agone, and am come to take counsel before breakfast. At the nooning Carlisle and Cecil will bring me the opinions of the captains, land and sea. I know already their conclusion and my answer. But I deny not that 'twill be a bitter draught." He did not take the great chair which Nevil indicated, but kept on to the window, where with a sound, half sigh, half oath, he flung himself down upon the broad seat.

"I' faith, John Nevil, I know not why I am here, seeing that your counsel has been given us, unless it be that you have more wisdom than most, and may somewhat sweeten this course which, mark you! I stand ready to take, or sweet or bitter, if thereby the Queen is best served.... The officer whom this Governor sent out days ago in search of these wealthy fugitives from the town--these rich people who starve on gold and silver dishes--hath returned with some report or other as to the treasure. What think you if at this coming feast--"

Said Nevil abruptly: "Let us not speak of such matters here, Frank! I am fully dressed; let us go into the air!"

Drake stared. "And be observed of all that we hold counsel together!

What's wrong with the room?" Glancing narrowly from wall to wall, he came suddenly to a realization of the presence of a third person--a stranger, dressed in some dark, rich stuff, who stood with folded arms against the door which he had closed behind him. Distinction of form, distinction of the quiet face, distinction of white hair, so incongruous and yet, strangely enough, the last and stateliest touch of all--after a moment of startled scrutiny Drake leaned forward, keen eyes beneath s.h.a.ggy brows, one hand tugging at his beard. "Who are you, sir?"

he asked.

Nevil interposed. "He is under my command--a volunteer for whom I alone am responsible."

The figure against the door advanced a pace or two. "I am Mortimer Ferne, Sir Francis Drake."

There was a pause, while Drake, staring as at one just risen from the dead, got slowly to his feet.

"Long ago," continued the apparition, "we had some slight acquaintance--but now 'tis natural that you know me not.... I pray you to believe me that until you drew near the window I thought Sir John Nevil alone in the room; moreover, that I have heard no word of counsel, saving only the word itself."

"I hear you, sir," answered Drake, icily. "Fair words and smooth--oh, very courtier-like words! Oh, your very good a.s.surance!--but I choose my own a.s.surance, which dwells in the fact that naught has been said to which the Spaniard is not welcome!"

Nevil drew in his breath with a grieved, impatient sigh, but Sir Mortimer stood motionless, nor seemed to care to find answering words.

The blood had mounted to his brow, but the eyes which gazed past the speaker into the magnificent heart of the dawn were very clear, very patient. Moments pa.s.sed while Drake, the great sea-captain, sat, striking his booted foot upon the floor, looking from Nevil, who had regained his usual calm, to the man with whom oblivion had no more to do. Suddenly he spoke:

"You are he who in the guise of a Spanish friar hath nursed our sick?

Give you thanks!... Which of your ships, John Nevil, do you make over to this--this gentleman?"

Nevil, drawing himself up, would have answered with haughtiness, but with a quick gesture of entreaty Ferne himself took the word.

"Sir Francis Drake--Sir John Nevil," he said, "I pray that, because of me, you come not to cold words and looks which sort not with your n.o.ble friendship! I shall never again, Sir Francis Drake, command any ship whatsoever, hold any office, be other than I am,--a man so broken, so holpen by Almighty G.o.d, that he needs not earthly praise or blame.... I have a servant ill within the camp who will fret at my absence. Wilt let me begone, John?--but you must first explain to the sergeant this my transformation. Sir Francis Drake, so long as you tarry in Cartagena I submit myself to what restriction, what surveillance, upon which you and my former Admiral may determine."

"I will let you go but for a time," Nevil answered, firmly. "Later, I shall send for you and Robin to some fitter lodging." He turned to Drake. "Frank--Frank Drake, I but give again to all our sick the man to whom, under G.o.d, is owed this abatement of the fever. I pray you to await me here while I myself deliver him to the sergeant below. It is necessary, for he entered this room in disguise, who goes forth clad again as an English gentleman. Then will I tell you a story which I think that, four years agone, may have been given you rather by a man's foes than by his friends--and another story of deep repentance and of G.o.d's path, which is not our path;--and Francis Drake hath indeed changed overnight if he make of this a quarrel between him and John Nevil, or if he be not generously moved towards this gentleman whom I count as my friend and follower!"

"I will wait," said Drake, after a pause. "Give you good-day, sir. Your service to our sick is known, and for it our thanks are due. At the present I can say no more."

Ferne bowed in silence, then, with Nevil, left the room for the hall below, where the startled sergeant and his men saluted indeed Sir John Nevil, but kept their eyes upon the figure at his side.

Nevil, beckoning to the sergeant, drew off a few paces and gave in a lowered voice instructions to be borne to Captain Powell. Then the one knight mounted to the room where Drake awaited him, and the other went, guarded, through the tropic morn to the fevered and the restless, who yearned for him as the sick may yearn, and to the hut where Arden strove to restrain Robin-a-dale's cries for his master.

XII

During the afternoon came an order to Captain Powell that the sick youth should be taken to Sir Mortimer Ferne's apartment in the house where lodged Master Arden. Thus it was that in the cooler air before sunset a litter was borne through the streets of Cartagena. In addition to the bearers and some other slight attendance there walked with it Sir John Nevil and Captain Powell, Giles Arden and Sir Mortimer Ferne. Sometimes the latter laid his hand upon the youth's burning forehead, sometimes upon the lips which would have babbled overmuch. Bearers and escort stared and stared. One who had been about the spital, and had seen a brother brought from under the shadow of death, repeatedly stumbled because he could not take his eyes from the friar become English gentleman--become friend of so great a gentleman as Sir John Nevil.

The little procession turned one corner, then another. Sir Mortimer touched Nevil's arm. "There's a shorter way--down this narrow street we are pa.s.sing."

"Ay," Nevil answered; "but let us go by the way of the market-place."

His thought was that none too soon could occur general recognition that Sir Mortimer Ferne dwelt in the English camp and walked with English leaders. The square, as it proved, was no desert. The hour was one of some relaxation, relief from the sun, and from the iron discipline of Drake, who, for the most part of the day, created posts and kept men at them. Carlisle was there seated in the shade of a giant palm, watching the drilling of a yet weak and staggering company whose very memory that burning calenture had enfeebled. At one side of the place, which was not large, others were examining a great heap of booty, the grosser spoils of rich men's houses, furniture of precious woods, gilt and inlaid cabinets, chests of costly apparel, armor, weapons, trappings of horses,--all awaiting under guard a.s.sortment and division. In the centre of the square a score or more of adventurers were gathered about the wide steps of a great stone market-cross, while from a point opposite to the street by which the party from the hospital must make entry advanced with some clanking of steel, talking, and st.u.r.dy laughter no lesser men than Francis Drake and some of his chiefest captains. Carlisle left watching the drilling and walked over to them. The adventurers lounging below the cross sprang up to greet their Admiral. A sudden puff of evening wind lifted Drake's red cap, and bearing it across to a small battery where a gunner and his mates examined a line of Spanish ordnance, placed it neatly over the muzzle of the smallest gun. Frank laughter arose; the gunner, with the red cap pressed against his hairy breast, and grinning with pleasure at his service, came at a run to restore to the great Sir Francis his property. Drake, whom the mere soldier and mariner idolized, found for the gunner both a peso of silver and jesting thanks; then, when he had donned the cap, turned and loudly called to the pa.s.sing company. "Come over to us, John Nevil," cried the sea-king. "No, no, let us have your companions also, and that sick youth we have heard of"

"You do not understand," muttered Ferne, hastily, to Nevil. "This place likes me not. Go you and Arden--"

Sir John shook his head. Alone with Drake that morning, he had told in its completeness the story that in many details was strange to him who was seldom in England, seldomer at court, and who had heard the story in a form which left scant room for pity or any dream of absolution. Once and again the great sea-captain had softly sworn to himself, and at the end Nevil had gone forth satisfied. Now he saw that Drake must have timed this meeting in the square, and with a smile he ignored the entreaty in the eyes of the man who, if his friend, was also his captive. He motioned to the bearers, and presently the company about the market-cross was enlarged.

Drake, after his hearty fashion, clapped his arm about Sir John's shoulder, calling him "dear Nevil." Arden, with whom he had slighter acquaintance, he also greeted, while Powell was his "good Powell, his trusty Anthony." There was a slight shifting in the smaller group, Nevil by a backward step or two bringing into line the man who stood beside the litter. Drake turned. "Give you G.o.dden, Sir Mortimer Ferne! Our hearty thanks, moreover, for the good service you have done us."

He spoke loudly, that all might hear. If beneath the bluff good-fellowship of word and voice there was any undercurrent of coldness or misliking, only one or two, besides the man who bowed to him in silence, might guess it. By now every man about the market-cross was at attention. Rumors had been rife that day. Neither at home in England nor here in Spanish dominions was there English soldier or sailor who knew not name and record of Sir Mortimer Ferne. Among the adventurers about the market-cross were not lacking men who in old days had viewed, admired, envied, and, for final tribute, contemned him. These broke ranks, pressing as closely as was mannerly towards the group about the litter. All gaped at Drake's words of amity, at Sir John Nevil's grave smile, and Carlisle's friendly face, but most of all at that one who had been the peer of great captains, but who now stood amongst them undetached, ghost-like, a visitant from the drear world of the dishonored dead. The palm-trees edging the square began to wave and rustle in the wind; the youth upon the litter moved restlessly, uttering moaning and incomprehensible words. Drake was speaking to Arden and others of the gentlemen adventurers.

"What ails you?" murmured Nevil, at Ferne's ear. "There is sweat upon your forehead, and you hold yourself as rigid as the dead. Your touch is icy cold."

"I burn," answered the other, in as low a tone. "Let us go hence."

Nevil motioned to the bearers, who raised the litter and began again their progress across the square. Drake turned from those to whom he had been speaking. "Will ye be going? You shall sup with us to-night, John Nevil! Master Arden, I do desire your better acquaintance. Captain Powell, you will stay with me who have some words for your ear. Sir Mortimer Ferne, I trust you will recover your servant, as you have recovered so many of our poor fellows"--his voice dropped until it was audible only to the three or four who made his immediate circle,--"as you have wellnigh recovered yourself."

Generous as he was, he had not meant to go so far. He had yet his doubts, his reversions, in mind, to those sheer facts which none denied.

This was a recreant knight--but also a man who had suffered long and greatly, who, if eye and intuition could be trusted, suffered now. He hesitated a moment, then abruptly held out his hand.

All saw the gesture, and a sudden hush fell upon the company. If these two touched hands, then in that moment would be spanned the distance between the star in the ascendant and the wavering marsh-light, between the sea-colossus and his one-time rival, now so long overwhelmed and chained to sterile earth.

In the short silence the wind seemed to take with a rushing sound the palm tops overhead. Then Ferne spoke. "With all my heart I thank you,"

he said. "I may not take your hand until you know"--he raised his voice so that all who chose might hear--"until you know that here where I stand, here before this cross, died in the torment of fire that Captain Robert Baldry who was my private foe, who lay beneath my challenge, whom I betrayed to his agony and to his martyr's death.... Ah! I will hold you excused, Sir Francis Drake!"

With the deep exclamation, the involuntary recoil, that followed on the heels of such an avowal, there appeared to descend upon the place a dark shadow, a veritable pall, a faint murk of driven smoke, through which men saw, to-day, the spectacle of nigh four years agone.... The silence was broken, the spell dissolved, by Robin-a-dale's feeble cry from the litter: "Master, master; come with me, master!"

Drake, who, with a quick intake of his breath, had drawn sharply back, was the first to recover. He sent his lightning glance from the frowning, the deeply flushed and horror-stricken, countenances about him to the man whose worn cheek showed no color, whose lips were locked, whose eyes were steadfast, though a little lifted to the blue sky above the cross. "Now death of my life!" swore the sea-king. "The knave did well to call you 'Master.' Whatever there may have been, here is now no coward!" He turned to the staring, whispering throng. "Gentlemen, we will remove from this s.p.a.ce, which was the death-bed of a brave man and a true martyr. This done, each man of you will go soberly about his business, remembering that G.o.d's dealings are not those of men;--remembering also that this gentleman is under my protection."

Doffing his red cap, he stepped slowly backward out of the wide ring about the market-cross. His example was followed by all; a few moments and the last rays of the sinking sun lay only upon bare stone and earth.

Some hours later, Robin-a-dale asleep in the bed, and his master keeping motionless watch at the window, Arden entered the room which had been a.s.signed to Sir Mortimer Ferne, and crossing the floor, sat himself down beside his friend. Presently Ferne put forth his hand, and the two sat with interlacing fingers, looking out upon the great constellations.

Arden was the first to speak.

"Dost remember how, when we were boys at school, and the curfew long rung, we yet knelt at our window and saw the stars come up over the moorland? Thou wert the poet and teller of tales--ah! thy paladins and paynims and ladies enchanted!--while I listened, bewitched as they, but with an ear for the master's tread. It was a fearful joy!"

"I remember," said the other. "It was a trick of mine which too often brought the cane across our shoulders."

"Not mine," quoth Arden. "You always begged me off. I was the smallest--you waked me--made me listen, forsooth!... Welladay! Old times seem near to-night!"

"Old times!" repeated the other. "Pictures that creep beneath the shut eyelid!--frail sounds that outcry the storm!--Shame's most delicate, most exquisite goad!... You cannot know how strange this day has been to me."

"You cannot know how glad this day has been to me," replied Arden, with a break in his voice. "Do you remember, Mortimer, that I would have sailed with you in the _Sea Wraith?_"