William Shakespeare as he lived Part 40

Our situation as recorder of events connected with this history, whilst it enables us to look from an elevated position upon those connected with our story, enables us also to transport our readers, with a thought, from pole to pole. Nay, we can even rival the swift flight of Puck, if we so will it, and "put a girdle round about the earth in somewhat less than forty minutes."

In virtue of this power, we therefore take leave to transport our readers upon the "sightless couriers of the air," and bid them look down upon the main of waters several thousand miles from the scene of our last chapter--even to the watery wastes which wash the coast of Florida.

A small speck--an atom--is seen slowly and laboriously making its way over the broad waves of the Atlantic. Steadily and beautifully, as we obtain a nearer view, does she seem to mount upon the rolling surge, and then again sink down into the vale of waters, almost lost to sight between the liquid mountains which follow each other in succession, apparently from end to end of the world.

How awfully grand is the situation! How curious to consider is the intellect, courage, and perseverance of those who guide that barque through such an unknown waste! The dreadful winds roaring above them, and beneath the mult.i.tudinous waters descending, "where fathom line would never find the ground," one touch of an unseen rock, one bolt starting in the vessel's hull, one unmarked and uncared-for blast of wind, one spark alighting in a crevice, and that vessel and all that it contains, unknown, unseen, is resolved into the vast tide, and washed amidst the atoms contained in its dark waters. Months have pa.s.sed since the Falcon left the river which flows up to that old Dutch-built Cinque Port where our readers may remember to have last seen her. Steadily hath the wanderer held on day after day, through fair and foul, into the dark waste, alone, like some atom upon the surface, and still breasting the wave, as if eternity was before her in those rolling seas.

Strange that the spirit of adventure should sustain men in such a hopeless-looking wilderness! That the desire of finding new worlds, or their greed after gold, should take them from all they hold dear in their own land. Such, however, is the motive which actuates the major part of the crew of that labouring barque, whilst to one alone amongst them, and who seems the chief of the party, the secret spring which is indeed the prime mover of the adventure, is love.

The youthful Count, then, whilst he leads on his followers under the idea of new discoveries, great gains, and hatred of the Spaniard, is, in truth, seeking for one who has either perished by wreck or starvation, or is still living in hopeless abandonment or captivity, somewhere amongst these far-away seas.

One only confidant is aware of the secret motive, and that person is our old acquaintance Martin. If then we look within the hull of this small craft, we shall find its interior peopled by some sixty stern-looking and bearded wanderers, high in courage, stern in resolve, the captain and crew who work the vessel, the eccentric and faithful Martin, and one female in disguise, the latter "a count of wealth as well as quality,"

to all appearance, and who, as proprietor of the vessel and loader of the expedition, seeks ostensibly but to pursue his love of adventure.

In consequence of the inferiority of size, form, and fashion of this vessel, and the unknown ocean they traverse, the Falcon and her warlike fraughtage have boon boating about for many a weary week.

It was after being exposed to one of the fearful hurricanes so frequent in these seas, that we now look upon the Falcon and her devoted crew.

Tempest-tossed as they had been for some weeks, to their great relief they at length began to find themselves approaching land, and by the delicious fragrance with which the air was loaded--an air which seemed as if it blew from some garden abounding with sweet flowers--they found themselves amongst "the still vext Bermothees," where they resolved to remain for a short time in order to refit.

Strange and unnatural appearances, however, whilst in this, as it first seemed, region of paradise, so astonished the sailors, that after a brief sojourn, the Count was necessitated to hasten his departure--

"The Isle seemed full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that gave delight, and hurt not."

The sailors, too, with characteristic superst.i.tion, declared they heard strange voices commanding them to leave the sh.o.r.e,[16] and, as if to enforce their orders, a dreadful storm of thunder and lightning seemed to rend the very heavens, and darkness settled as a pall around them.

Fearful shapes too were said to glare through the murky atmosphere around the ship, and the apparition of the ominous flame, called by seamen "Castor and Pollux," flitted above the mast. These portents were the prelude to a yet more tremendous storm, which threatening to swallow up the little vessel, eventually drove her on an island which runs parallel nearly to the coast of Carolina.

[Footnote 16: Such an account was in reality given by the adventurers who sailed with Sir Humphrey Gilbert, the father of our plantations, and the brother of Sir Walter Raleigh, and who was lost in the storm following the portentous sounds we have described. Might not this very incident have suggested to Shakespeare the description of the island in the "Tempest."]

The Count here disembarked, and refreshed his followers, by rest amidst woods and groves of tall cedar trees, around whose trunks wild vines hung in festoons, and the grape seemed so natural to the soil, that the cl.u.s.ters covered the ground and dipt into the ocean.

Again they put to sea, and again they made a strange land filled with new wonders. Here, whilst the adventurers sought the interior of a country they had been led to believe contained cities in which the houses were studded with pearl, the Count and his immediate attendants sought the ruined colony from which Drake had carried off the remnant of followers, previously left by Sir Walter Raleigh. "They after riches hunt; he after love." The dangers and difficulties encountered by both parties it would be difficult to picture; for hunger, heat, wounds, and disease were the portion of the adventurers of Elizabeth's day. Through gloomy swamps they penetrated, and through interminable forests they hewed their way. Many were pierced by the poisoned shaft of the Indian, many died of despair, and many were the victims of serpents, reptiles, and savage beasts; whilst others again died of loathsome diseases unknown in their native land.

Still the Count, the faithful Martin, and their immediate followers held on. They had gained some tidings by which they learnt that it party of wrecked seamen had been carried captive by the natives to a city in the interior of the country; and they resolved to reach them, or perish in the attempt.

'Twas indeed an edifying sight to behold the stripling youth who led that small band. One evidently nurtured in luxury and ease, enduring the extremity of danger, fatigue, hardship, and privation, and lending a fire to his jaded followers by his heroic fort.i.tude and example. What mattered it him, that for days hundreds of half-naked Indians, with their clubs and bows, hovered around his mail-clad band. One moment swarming to the close attack, the next showering flights of arrows from the distance. Still himself and party were resolved to penetrate to the rescue of their countrymen or die; and the little band at length reached the place they sought.

'Twas lucky for the young Count that he had steeled his mind to bear disappointment when he donned the light cuira.s.s which adorned his breast; for himself and followers, on arriving at the capital of the country, found literally nothing to repay their toil. In place of boundless wealth and temples of the sun, the adventurers found a wretched Indian town, which had been sacked and partially burned by a detachment of Spanish soldiers, and who had apparently carried off those they sought as prisoners to their ship.

Here again, therefore, the Christian fort.i.tude of the young Count supported his followers. "Murmur at nothing, comrades," he said. "If our ills are repairable, it is ungrateful; if otherwise, it is vain. There is comfort yet. The Spaniard is a.s.sailable, and the Falcon swift of pinion; we will return, embark, and swoop upon the enemy."

Well knowing that the Spaniards always went into the Gulf of Mexico by St. Domingo and Hispaniola, and directed their homeward course by the Gulf of Florida, where they found a continued coast on the west side, trending away north, and then standing to the east to make for Spain, the Captain of the Falcon directed his course accordingly; and guided by report of some barques he fell in with, managed to gain sight of the very vessel they were in search of.

The Spaniard was a huge carrack loaded with treasure; and when the English vessel sighted her, she was labouring heavily in a gale, and which the lighter and better-built Falcon rode with ease. Displaying his flag, the Count instantly gave orders to bear down and near the enemy; and disregarding the increasing winds which now blow almost a hurricane, the two vessels encountered each other.

How strange it seemed that amidst the fury of the elements, and which in a few short hours might overwhelm both vessels in the deep, the natural hatred the crews bore each other should urge on and help the destruction. And still more edifying was the gallantry with which the smaller English vessel bore down upon the huge golden prize, received her heavy fire, and, crashing upon her, whilst they were locked together, attempted to storm her bulwarks, and gain a footing on her deck. Then might have been seen a fearful sight,--amidst the tearing of masts and rigging consequent upon the vessels being locked together for the moment, and whilst they were simultaneously heaved upon each wave, was heard the ringing sound of musketry, the clash of weapons, and the despairing cry of agony, mingled with rattling sails and roaring wind.

Enveloped in smoke, none knew whether they were sinking amidst the dire confusion and horrible sounds around. Navigation was suspended whilst rage lasted, until the vessels separating with the increasing violence of the storm, in a crippled state, and, as if pausing for want of power to renew the fight, they were now gradually driven from each other. Not as they had met, however, did they part. In the confusion of the fight, and owing to their tearing apart ere the English adventurers could master the Spanish craft, and which by their valour and impetuosity they had nearly accomplished, several had fallen into the hands of the Spaniard, whilst a similar capture had also been made by the Falcon.

The young Count and Martin were unluckily amongst those left upon the deck of the Spanish vessel, and one or two of the before wrecked sailors, of whom the Count was in search, together with some Spaniards of condition, were the prize of the English.

This was a dire consummation to the crew of the Falcon after all their toils. The Spaniard was known to be a cruel devil on the high seas. The prisoners would be tortured or made to walk the plank. In addition to this, there was no possibility of rescue or renewal of the fight in such a sea, and in so crippled a state. Both vessels, therefore, lay rolling upon the waters, the crews glaring at each other till night.

Notwithstanding their crippled state, the Captain of the Falcon, with the characteristic industry of the English suitor, sat about preparing for a renewal of the engagement, and, after giving a mult.i.tude of directions, he found time to address himself to a tall n.o.ble-looking cavalier, who seemed the princ.i.p.al of those whom the chance of war had introduced into his vessel.

"This is an unlucky issue to our adventure, Seignor," he said, "unless we can repair the mischief by a second fight."

"A lucky one for me, good Captain," returned the cavalier, "I was forced with other prisoners upon the deck of yonder Spaniard, and ordered to fight against you, my own country men. In the _melee_ I managed to gain a footing upon your craft. Another day had perhaps seen us all committed to the deep."

"Whilst I," said the Captain, "in gaining that for which I adventured in this voyage, have lost my venture by losing my employer. Is not thy name Arderne,--Walter Arderne?"

"It is," said the cavalier, in some surprise, "How have you discovered so much?"

"There are those in this vessel who know you," said the Captain; "men from your own neighbourhood, and who are the followers of the owner of this craft, a n.o.ble gentleman who set sail from England for the very purpose of discovering and rescuing certain of his countrymen said to be cast away on the coast of Florida."

"You still more astonish me," said Arderne. "What was the name of this person?"

"My employer, and who has unluckily become a captive in yonder carrack, is called the Count Falanara, a n.o.ble having large estates in Warwickshire."

"We have no such name, or proprietor of land, in that county," said Arderne; "you have been deceived."

"In some sort I think so," said Captain Fluellyn; "will you favour me by stepping into the cabin of this n.o.ble, and in which, until his absence gave me opportunity of entering, I have never yet been?"

So saying, the Captain led the way into the small cabin the Count had occupied during the voyage, which had been fitted up under his own directions.

Nothing could be more elegant than the interior of this cabin; the curtains of the small sleeping-berth were of common silk, fringed with gold; the window beneath which the waves rippled was elaborately carved, and also framed and gilt; a splendid mirror of small dimensions, being framed in gold, ornamented the opposite side; the lamp which was suspended from the ceiling was also of pure gold; an elaborately-carved seat, with velvet cushions, was opposite the small round table fastened in the centre of the cabin, and upon it was placed a lute. In short, everything shewed that the recent occupier was a person of somewhat effeminate tastes and habits, and so the Captain seemed to think. "A soft nest," he said, "for one vowed to adventure, and the dangers of the New World. One would think a n.o.ble possessing the means for luxuries such as these need scarcely seek for treasure."

"Truly so," said Arderne.

"And yet," said the Captain, "it all depends upon the treasure sought.

This Count, as you have said, hath in some sort put a cheat upon me; inasmuch, Master Arderne, as he was not what he seemed."

"True," said Arderne.

"These things are not the usual accompaniments of a sailor, or a rude son of adventure," said the Captain, somewhat contemptuously, touching the lute and the framed mirror with the end of his sheathed rapier. "On my first acquaintance with this youth--this n.o.ble--and when I took instructions anent our voyage, I looked upon him as a coward. He was for avoiding all unnecessary danger and collision with an enemy. Subsequent events, however, and his endurance under toil, and his ardour after that he sought, caused me to change that opinion. A week ago, as I listened to the melody of the voice which accompanied yonder lute, it suddenly struck me the Count was a female."

"A female!" said Arderne. "Had she no familiar friend--no confidant with her--who was aware of her real name, think ye?"

"She had," returned the Captain, "a shrewd and faithful friend, who seemed her confidant; albeit, I could make him out as little as I could his superior. He also is captured or lost in the confusion."

"We must take that vessel, Captain, or perish!" said Arderne.

"We will at least do our best," said the Captain, preparing to leave the cabin, and look to the exertions of his men. But at that moment a sudden cry arose in the vessel, which made both him and Arderne hasten their steps. The Spaniard was on fire.

This was indeed a terrible consummation. The night was dark--the burning vessel some miles off.

Regardless of the billows rolling mountains high, Arderne and a resolute company got out the boats of the Falcon, and attempted to approach the blazing vessel.