The Golden Galleon Part 28

Yet so long as there was a handful of powder to be found it was carefully employed. Not only had the ammunition run short, but all the pikes were broken in hand-to-hand fight, and of Grenville's men that had gone into action forty lay dead, and the most part of the rest severely wounded. The ship herself was almost a wreck, her tackle all cut asunder, her upper works altogether rased. During the fifteen hours, from three o'clock in the afternoon, when the battle had begun, until daybreak on the next morning, she had been closely a.s.sailed by fifteen several galleons, in addition to those that had fired upon her from a distance.

Just before dawn, Edward Webbe and the few remaining gunners who had been at work between decks appeared above the hatchway. They had used up the powder to the last grain, and there was no more fighting to be done. Webbe was as black as a coalman, his clothing was torn to tatters, and he was covered with wounds. He went up to Captain Robinson and told him the condition of the ship. The captain then held colloquy with the sailing-master, and both approached Sir Richard Grenville.

"Our powder hath been spent, even to the last corn," said the captain.

"We have six feet of water in the hold," added the sailing-master, "and three great shot-holes below the water-line which are so weakly plugged that with the first working of the sea we must needs sink."

Sir Richard Grenville took a turn to and fro, meditating. Then he looked at the master-gunner, whom he knew to be a most resolute man, and said in a tone of command:

"Blow up the ship, then! Blow her up! Split her and sink her, that naught may remain of glory or victory to our enemies. As for ourselves, let us yield ourselves unto G.o.d, and to the mercy of none else!"

"Nay," returned the master. "Have we not told ye that there is no gunpowder on board wherewith to fire a gun, much less to blow up the ship?"

"Why, then," cried Grenville, "split her up with your hatchets, pull out the plugs from the shot-holes. But sink her, sink her how you will. For while we have, like valiant men, repulsed so many of our enemies, it were folly now to shorten the honour of our nation by prolonging our lives for a few hours or a few days. So let sink her, I say. Sink her, in G.o.d's name."

To this Edward Webbe and divers others who were with him readily a.s.sented. But Captain Robinson and Pennington were of another opinion, and they besought Sir Richard to have care of them, declaring that the Spaniards would doubtless be as ready to accept a composition as they themselves were ready to offer the same. "There be many able and valiant men in our company yet living," said the captain, "whose wounds are not mortal, and who may yet do their country and Queen acceptable service hereafter."

But Sir Richard refused to hearken to this pleading, and he moved away and stood for a while looking over the sea that was now clearer under the approaching light of dawn. And beyond the galleons he caught sight of Jacob Whiddon's ship, the _Pilgrim_, bearing away to the leeward with two great galleons in pursuit of her.

Meanwhile, Captain Robinson held speech with his fellows and won many of them to his side, and he besought Ambrose Pennington to leave the ship and go on board the _St. Paul_ and parley with Don Alonzo de Ba.s.san for conditions. So Pennington and Jacob Hartop and some three others, all of them sorely wounded and looking strangely ill-conditioned, went down into an empty boat that was alongside, and holding up a white flag in their bow they crossed the intervening s.p.a.ce of sea to the admiral.

They found Don Alonzo in no great haste to make another entry upon the _Revenge_, for his men had had enough of her, and even still feared her.

Pennington told him that Sir Richard Grenville had a mind to blow up his ship with himself and all his ship's company.

"And wherefore should he resort to a measure so extreme?" questioned Don Alonzo. "Since his disposition is so dangerous, return to him, I beg you, and let him know that I am willing to put an end to this battle, and that I have already lost more men and more ships than I had ever thought to lose at the hands of one small English man-of-war. Bid him understand that I yield to him his life, and that the lives of all his ship's company shall be spared and sent home to England. For the better sort, such reasonable ransom shall be paid as their estates may bear.

But I do aver, and swear by the Holy Mother, that all of you shall be free from the galleys and from imprisonment. I care not to expose myself and my fleet to further loss and mischief. Also, 'tis my great desire to rescue your Sir Richard Grenville, whom for his most notable valour I do greatly honour and admire."

With this answer Pennington returned to the _Revenge_, and since safety of life was promised, the larger number of the men, feeling themselves to be now at the end of their peril, stood up against Sir Richard and Edward Webbe, and declared their willingness to surrender.

"What!" cried Edward Webbe with bitter scorn and contempt in his voice.

"Do you ask me to surrender to a Spaniard? Me who have borne so much of horror and torture and cruelty at their hands, and at the hands of their accursed Inquisition? G.o.d forbid! No, I will not surrender. Rather would I die now at this moment where I stand!"

And thus saying he whipped out his sword, and resting its hilt upon the deck, held its point towards his body with intent to throw himself upon it. But the captain arrested him in the act, kicking the sword away.

Webbe struggled to regain his weapon, and, failing, was about to rush to the ship's side and fling himself into the sea, when Ambrose Pennington and another caught him and carried him down to his cabin and there locked him in, making sure that he had no weapon within reach.

Sir Richard Grenville stood alone, not attempting to dissuade his men from their resolve, and presently in the silence Jacob Hartop spoke.

"Ned was right," said he, stepping to Sir Richard's side. "An English ship, even though she be a poor battered hulk, were ever a better home than a galleon of Spain." He glanced aft to the flag-staff upon which a tattered remnant of the honoured flag still fluttered in the morning air, and baring his head he added: "G.o.d bless Queen Elizabeth!"

Gilbert Oglander and Timothy Trollops had taken no part in this little scene. They were at the time both below in the c.o.c.kpit attending to their wounds and giving what small help was in their power to their sick and dying companions. Here, too, was Roland Grenville. But in good time the death-like silence of the abated battle brought the three up on deck. As they came to the stair-head they glanced upon the water, which rippled and glanced in the morning light; for there were now no intervening bulwarks to shield it from their sight. And they saw some six gaily-furnished boats approaching. The boats were brought alongside, and the boys at their bows threw up coils of rope as they touched, which, falling upon the blood-stained deck, were taken by certain of Sir Richard's men and secured to such balks of timber as could be found.

Then one by one the men stole away into the boats and were taken aboard Don Alonzo's ship and others of the galleons.

Sir Richard Grenville, thus overmatched, agreed after much persuasion to leave the _Revenge_, which was indeed an unsavoury resting-place for any man, her decks being covered with blood and strewn with the bodies of dead and wounded men, as if it had been a slaughter-house.

"Well, an you will, let it be so," said Sir Richard as he turned to descend into the boat that the Spanish admiral had sent for him. "He may do with my body what he listeth, for I esteem it not." And grasping the hand of Gilbert Oglander, who was helping him, he added, "Pray for me, Gilbert, my lad. And bid the others of our company pray for me also."

Then he swooned, reviving only when he was laid upon a couch in the cabin of one of the Spanish officers on board the _St Paul_.

Don Alonzo himself would neither see him nor speak with him. But the other captains and gentlemen received him with gracious courtesy, treated him with humanity and kindness, and left nothing unattempted that might contribute to his comfort or tend to his recovery. They wondered at his courage and his stout heart, for he now showed no sign of faintness nor change of colour.

Gilbert Oglander remained at his side throughout that day, and was relieved at night by Sir Richard's son Roland. Early in the morning the galleons anch.o.r.ed in the roadstead of Terceira. Sir Richard Grenville was too weak to be removed upon the island, and Gilbert and Roland sat with him until he died on the morning of the third day after the battle.

His last words were worthy of his life. Two of the Spanish captains were present as he spoke them in their own tongue.

"Here die I, Richard Grenville," he murmured as he held his son's hand.

"Here die I, Richard Grenville, with a joyful and quiet mind, for that I have ended my life as a true soldier ought to do that hath fought for his country, Queen, religion, and honour, whereby my soul most joyful departeth out of this body, and shall always leave behind it an everlasting fame of a valiant and true soldier that hath done his duty as he was bound to do."

CHAPTER XXI.

PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES.

It was the intention of the Spaniards to take the broken and shot-riddled hulk of the _Revenge_ to Spain as their vaunted prize. And well might they set glory upon their conquest, for she was the one and only English ship that had surrendered to them during the whole course of the war, and in capturing her they had sacrificed four of their own best galleons, while sustaining great damage to some fourteen others.

Nearly two thousand of their soldiers had been slain in the fight or drowned in the sea, including two high and mighty hidalgos, Don Louis de St. John, whom Grenville had vanquished with his own hand, and Don George de Prunaria de Malaga, besides many others of special account.

Their admiral now sent a large company of carpenters, riggers, and swabbers on board of her to repair her leaks, pump out the water that was deep in her hold, and clear her of the wreckage that enc.u.mbered her; while those who remained alive of her gallant crew were dispersed among the Spanish ships as prisoners, although permitted to go ash.o.r.e upon the island during the daytime under close surveillance of a guard of armed soldiers.

Don Alonzo de Ba.s.san's fleet lay in the roadstead of Terceira awaiting the daily expected arrival of the West India treasure-ships, which appeared in straggling numbers day by day. The Lord Thomas Howard's squadron, which had set out to lay capture to them, appeared not again, but having left the _Revenge_ to her fate at the opening of the battle, departed for England. Some accused him of cowardice in avoiding an engagement; but 'tis certain enough that he knew the risks that were entailed, and if the truth must be set down, Sir Richard Grenville had really been guilty of disobedience.

While Gilbert and Timothy were still prisoners on board the _St. Paul_ they were quartered in a little cabin under the p.o.o.p. With them was Ambrose Pennington, and in another cabin were Roland Grenville and Captain Robinson. Jacob Hartop had remained on board the _Revenge_ with Edward Webbe, refusing to quit her while she floated.

On a certain day, ere yet the combined fleets from Spain and the West Indies were ready to depart for Spain, Philip Oglander lay on his bed under pretence of being wounded, albeit his wounds were no more serious than a cut upon his knuckles and a dark-blue bruise upon the back of his right hand, where the pistol flung by Red Bob had struck him. It was not so much these hurts that kept him abed as the eager desire which was consuming him to hear what was going on in the cabin next to his own. It was the cabin occupied by his cousin Gilbert and Timothy Trollope. Philip did not dare to speak openly with his cousin and question him concerning what knowledge he might have of the things that had been going forward at Modbury Manor, but he was aware that Gilbert knew more than himself, for he had once seen Gilbert reading a letter--Drusilla's letter,--and also he had on occasion heard Timothy Trollope--whether in jest or in earnest--address Gilbert as "my lord".

Now Philip had himself received more than one letter from England. For his father, well knowing the traitorous business which occupied Philip in Spain, and knowing where a letter might find him, had written to him informing him of the death of Lord Champernoun, and bidding him remember that he, Philip, might one day inherit the t.i.tle and estates, and that, therefore, it was inc.u.mbent upon him to look well to his personal safety.

"Indeed," wrote Jasper, "there is but one thing now standing between thee and this great heritage, and that is thy cousin, Master Gilbert Oglander. There is naught that I wish for more heartily than to hear of the young Jackanapes' death. Therefore I do conjure thee, my son, if thou shouldst by chance encounter him, prithee do thy work with more surety than thou didst do it in Beddington Dingle. Let there be no bungling, but bear thee well in mind that upon thy well-directed arrow shaft, or rapier point, must depend thy future and the possibility of dubbing thyself Baron Champernoun."

These were vague hints. But Philip had understood them. He had understood them to mean that his father urged him to seek out Gilbert Oglander and frustrate his return to England. And Philip had sought to obey these injunctions, although hitherto without success. He had tried to compa.s.s Gilbert's death during the battle, and, having failed, he yet had hope that some chance would favour him for fulfilling his cherished desire. And he furtively watched his cousin, spied upon his every movement, and endeavoured by every available means to entrap him to his death. But Gilbert, wheresoever he went about the galleon and whenever he went ash.o.r.e, was for ever accompanied by Timothy Trollope, and Philip saw no advantage in running the risk of a hand-to-hand encounter with the barber's valiant son.

On this day as he lay in his cabin he listened for every word that should pa.s.s between Gilbert and his two companions. Much that was said was in the form of mere idle remark about the late battle, or about their wounds, or about the death of Sir Richard Grenville. But after a while there was talk of home, and at length, in answer to some question of Ambrose Pennington, Gilbert spoke of his uncle Jasper, and thereupon told the whole story of his grandfather's death and of his uncle's a.s.sumption of the t.i.tle, even as Drusilla had recounted it in her letter.

"Ah!" muttered Philip, overhearing every word. "Then he doth know. By Our Lady, he doth know all!"

Then, setting his teeth together, he vowed that come what might Gilbert should never return to England to enjoy his inheritance. And from that moment he continued to watch his cousin with increased diligence. It was some comfort to his wicked soul to know that Gilbert was now a captive, and that as such it was more than probable he would spend many a year to come in some Spanish prison, as so many Englishmen had done before him.

But this was not enough, for there was the chance of an escape from prison; there was the chance, indeed, that Don Alonzo might liberate his captives to ransom; there were a hundred ways by which Gilbert might succeed in returning to his native land. But there was one sure and certain means of preventing this, and that was that, by fair measures or by foul, Gilbert should be brought to his death, and Philip now resolved that this should be. He would not rest content until his cousin lay lifeless, ay, as lifeless as brave Sir Richard Grenville, whose body now lay at the bottom of the sea.

Gilbert was quite oblivious of the secret danger that threatened him, nor did he see aught but pure accident in what befell him on the next day.

The Spanish admiral did not wish that his ship should be enc.u.mbered by a crowd of wounded Englishmen. And on the day before the sailing of his fleet he ordered that those who were at present on board the _St. Paul_ should be removed to the _Revenge_. And it followed accordingly that boats were put out for this purpose.

Gilbert and Timothy were at the gangway together, and it chanced that Timothy descended the side-ladder first, scarcely observing that Philip Oglander had crept to Gilbert's side. Timothy was already in the boat, when, on looking up, he saw Gilbert stumble and fall. Fortunately the boat was not close alongside; there was a yard of water between it and the ship. Gilbert was but a poor swimmer, and when he splashed into the sea he sank deep down. There was a strong current, and when he rose to the surface he appeared many yards away astern of the boat. Timothy plunged in and swam to him, thinking of sharks, and when he reached him and supported him, he turned to see if the boat were being brought to the rescue. He heard some orders given in Spanish, which seemed to him to be given in Philip Oglander's voice. Louder still than Philip's was the voice of Ambrose Pennington, which could be heard for a long distance away, crying out to the boatmen to cast off and pull towards the two lads, and mingling his commands with volleys of round English oaths that would surely have won for him the iron chain of punishment had they been heard a few days before on board the _Revenge_. But the Spaniards heeded him not at all, declaring that the boys were but foreign lumber who might well be allowed to drown for all the use they would be on the galleys.

Pennington appealed to Philip Oglander, saying that it was his own cousin and the head of his family who was in danger. But Philip turned away with a derisive laugh, no doubt congratulating himself upon the fact that it was his own foot over which Gilbert had tripped.

From a high part of the galleon's p.o.o.p where he presently climbed he watched the heads of the two boys as they were carried away in the current. Soon an intervening galleon hid them from his view, and he consoled himself with the thought that he had very cleverly got rid of the one person who, next to his own father, stood between him and the baronage of Champernoun.