Chương Chương 15 · HOW THE YELLOW COG SAILED FORTH FROM LEPE.

. HOW THE YELLOW COG SAILED FORTH FROM LEPE.

That night the Company slept at St. Leonard's, in the great monastic

barns and spicarium--ground well known both to Alleyne and to John, for

they were almost within sight of the Abbey of Beaulieu. A strange thrill

it gave to the young squire to see the well-remembered white dress once

more, and to hear the measured tolling of the deep vespers bell.

At early dawn they passed across the broad, sluggish, reed-girt

stream--men, horses, and baggage in the flat ferry barges--and so

journeyed on through the fresh morning air past Exbury to Lepe.

Topping the heathy down, they came of a sudden full in sight of the old

sea-port--a cluster of houses, a trail of blue smoke, and a bristle of

masts. To right and left the long blue curve of the Solent lapped in a

fringe of foam upon the yellow beach. Some way out from the town a line

of pessoners, creyers, and other small craft were rolling lazily on the

gentle swell. Further out still lay a great merchant-ship, high ended,

deep waisted, painted of a canary yellow, and towering above the

fishing-boats like a swan among ducklings.

“By St. Paul!” said the knight, “our good merchant of Southampton hath

not played us false, for methinks I can see our ship down yonder. He

said that she would be of great size and of a yellow shade.”

“By my hilt, yes!” muttered Aylward; “she is yellow as a kite's claw,

and would carry as many men as there are pips in a pomegranate.”

“It is as well,” remarked Terlake; “for methinks, my fair lord, that

we are not the only ones who are waiting a passage to Gascony. Mine eye

catches at times a flash and sparkle among yonder houses which assuredly

never came from shipman's jacket or the gaberdine of a burgher.”

“I can also see it,” said Alleyne, shading his eyes with his hand. “And

I can see men-at-arms in yonder boats which ply betwixt the vessel and

the shore. But methinks that we are very welcome here, for already they

come forth to meet us.”

A tumultuous crowd of fishermen, citizens, and women had indeed swarmed

out from the northern gate, and approached them up the side of the moor,

waving their hands and dancing with joy, as though a great fear had been

rolled back from their minds. At their head rode a very large and solemn

man with a long chin and a drooping lip. He wore a fur tippet round his

neck and a heavy gold chain over it, with a medallion which dangled in

front of him.

“Welcome, most puissant and noble lord,” he cried, doffing his bonnet

to Black Simon. “I have heard of your lordship's valiant deeds, and in

sooth they might be expected from your lordship's face and bearing. Is

there any small matter in which I may oblige you?”

“Since you ask me,” said the man-at-arms, “I would take it kindly if you

could spare a link or two of the chain which hangs round your neck.”

“What, the corporation chain!” cried the other in horror. “The ancient

chain of the township of Lepe! This is but a sorry jest, Sir Nigel.”

“What the plague did you ask me for then?” said Simon. “But if it is

Sir Nigel Loring with whom you would speak, that is he upon the black

horse.”

The Mayor of Lepe gazed with amazement on the mild face and slender

frame of the famous warrior.

“Your pardon, my gracious lord,” he cried. “You see in me the mayor and

chief magistrate of the ancient and powerful town of Lepe. I bid you

very heartily welcome, and the more so as you are come at a moment when

we are sore put to it for means of defence.”

“Ha!” cried Sir Nigel, pricking up his ears.

“Yes, my lord, for the town being very ancient and the walls as old

as the town, it follows that they are very ancient too. But there is a

certain villainous and bloodthirsty Norman pirate hight Tete-noire, who,

with a Genoan called Tito Caracci, commonly known as Spade-beard, hath

been a mighty scourge upon these coasts. Indeed, my lord, they are very

cruel and black-hearted men, graceless and ruthless, and if they should

come to the ancient and powerful town of Lepe then--”

“Then good-bye to the ancient and powerful town of Lepe,” quoth Ford,

whose lightness of tongue could at times rise above his awe of Sir

Nigel.

The knight, however, was too much intent upon the matter in hand to give

heed to the flippancy of his squire. “Have you then cause,” he asked,

“to think that these men are about to venture an attempt upon you?”

“They have come in two great galleys,” answered the mayor, “with two

bank of oars on either side, and great store of engines of war and

of men-at-arms. At Weymouth and at Portland they have murdered and

ravished. Yesterday morning they were at Cowes, and we saw the smoke

from the burning crofts. To-day they lie at their ease near Freshwater,

and we fear much lest they come upon us and do us a mischief.”

“We cannot tarry,” said Sir Nigel, riding towards the town, with the

mayor upon his left side; “the Prince awaits us at Bordeaux, and we may

not be behind the general muster. Yet I will promise you that on our way

we shall find time to pass Freshwater and to prevail upon these rovers

to leave you in peace.”

“We are much beholden to you!” cried the mayor “But I cannot see, my

lord, how, without a war-ship, you may venture against these men. With

your archers, however, you might well hold the town and do them great

scath if they attempt to land.”

“There is a very proper cog out yonder,” said Sir Nigel, “it would be a

very strange thing if any ship were not a war-ship when it had such men

as these upon her decks. Certes, we shall do as I say, and that no later

than this very day.”

“My lord,” said a rough-haired, dark-faced man, who walked by the

knight's other stirrup, with his head sloped to catch all that he was

saying. “By your leave, I have no doubt that you are skilled in land

fighting and the marshalling of lances, but, by my soul! you will find

it another thing upon the sea. I am the master-shipman of this yellow

cog, and my name is Goodwin Hawtayne. I have sailed since I was as high

as this staff, and I have fought against these Normans and against the

Genoese, as well as the Scotch, the Bretons, the Spanish, and the Moors.

I tell you, sir, that my ship is over light and over frail for such

work, and it will but end in our having our throats cut, or being sold

as slaves to the Barbary heathen.”

“I also have experienced one or two gentle and honorable ventures upon

the sea,” quoth Sir Nigel, “and I am right blithe to have so fair a task

before us. I think, good master-shipman, that you and I may win great

honor in this matter, and I can see very readily that you are a brave

and stout man.”

“I like it not,” said the other sturdily. “In God's name, I like it not.

And yet Goodwin Hawtayne is not the man to stand back when his fellows

are for pressing forward. By my soul! be it sink or swim, I shall

turn her beak into Freshwater Bay, and if good Master Witherton, of

Southampton, like not my handling of his ship then he may find another

master-shipman.”

They were close by the old north gate of the little town, and Alleyne,

half turning in his saddle, looked back at the motley crowd who

followed. The bowmen and men-at-arms had broken their ranks and were

intermingled with the fishermen and citizens, whose laughing faces

and hearty gestures bespoke the weight of care from which this welcome

arrival had relieved them. Here and there among the moving throng of

dark jerkins and of white surcoats were scattered dashes of scarlet and

blue, the whimples or shawls of the women. Aylward, with a fishing lass

on either arm, was vowing constancy alternately to her on the right and

her on the left, while big John towered in the rear with a little chubby

maiden enthroned upon his great shoulder, her soft white arm curled

round his shining headpiece. So the throng moved on, until at the very

gate it was brought to a stand by a wondrously fat man, who came darting

forth from the town with rage in every feature of his rubicund face.

“How now, Sir Mayor?” he roared, in a voice like a bull. “How now, Sir

Mayor? How of the clams and the scallops?”

“By Our Lady! my sweet Sir Oliver,” cried the mayor. “I have had so much

to think of, with these wicked villains so close upon us, that it had

quite gone out of my head.”

“Words, words!” shouted the other furiously. “Am I to be put off with

words? I say to you again, how of the clams and scallops?”

“My fair sir, you flatter me,” cried the mayor. “I am a peaceful trader,

and I am not wont to be so shouted at upon so small a matter.”

“Small!” shrieked the other. “Small! Clams and scallops! Ask me to your

table to partake of the dainty of the town, and when I come a barren

welcome and a bare board! Where is my spear-bearer?”

“Nay, Sir Oliver, Sir Oliver!” cried Sir Nigel, laughing.

“Let your anger be appeased, since instead of this dish you come upon an

old friend and comrade.”

“By St. Martin of Tours!” shouted the fat knight, his wrath all changed

in an instant to joy, “if it is not my dear little game rooster of the

Garonne. Ah, my sweet coz, I am right glad to see you. What days we have

seen together!”

“Aye, by my faith,” cried Sir Nigel, with sparkling eyes, “we have

seen some valiant men, and we have shown our pennons in some noble

skirmishes. By St. Paul! we have had great joys in France.”

“And sorrows also,” quoth the other. “I have some sad memories of the

land. Can you recall that which befell us at Libourne?”

“Nay, I cannot call to mind that we ever so much as drew sword at the

place.”

“Man, man,” cried Sir Oliver, “your mind still runs on nought but blades

and bassinets. Hast no space in thy frame for the softer joys. Ah,

even now I can scarce speak of it unmoved. So noble a pie, such tender

pigeons, and sugar in the gravy instead of salt! You were by my side

that day, as were Sir Claude Latour and the Lord of Pommers.”

“I remember it,” said Sir Nigel, laughing, “and how you harried the cook

down the street, and spoke of setting fire to the inn. By St. Paul! most

worthy mayor, my old friend is a perilous man, and I rede you that you

compose your difference with him on such terms as you may.”

“The clams and scallops shall be ready within the hour,” the mayor

answered. “I had asked Sir Oliver Buttesthorn to do my humble board

the honor to partake at it of the dainty upon which we take some little

pride, but in sooth this alarm of pirates hath cast such a shadow on my

wits that I am like one distrait. But I trust, Sir Nigel, that you will

also partake of none-meat with me?”

“I have overmuch to do,” Sir Nigel answered, “for we must be aboard,

horse and man, as early as we may. How many do you muster, Sir Oliver?”

“Three and forty. The forty are drunk, and the three are but indifferent

sober. I have them all safe upon the ship.”

“They had best find their wits again, for I shall have work for every

man of them ere the sun set. It is my intention, if it seems good to

you, to try a venture against these Norman and Genoese rovers.”

“They carry caviare and certain very noble spices from the Levant aboard

of ships from Genoa,” quoth Sir Oliver. “We may come to great profit

through the business. I pray you, master-shipman, that when you go on

board you pour a helmetful of sea-water over any of my rogues whom you

may see there.”

Leaving the lusty knight and the Mayor of Lepe, Sir Nigel led the

Company straight down to the water's edge, where long lines of flat

lighters swiftly bore them to their vessel. Horse after horse was slung

by main force up from the barges, and after kicking and plunging in

empty air was dropped into the deep waist of the yellow cog, where rows

of stalls stood ready for their safe keeping. Englishmen in those days

were skilled and prompt in such matters, for it was so not long before

that Edward had embarked as many as fifty thousand men in the port

of Orwell, with their horses and their baggage, all in the space of

four-and-twenty hours. So urgent was Sir Nigel on the shore, and so

prompt was Goodwin Hawtayne on the cog, that Sir Oliver Buttesthorn had

scarce swallowed his last scallop ere the peal of the trumpet and clang

of nakir announced that all was ready and the anchor drawn. In the last

boat which left the shore the two commanders sat together in the sheets,

a strange contrast to one another, while under the feet of the rowers

was a litter of huge stones which Sir Nigel had ordered to be carried to

the cog. These once aboard, the ship set her broad mainsail, purple

in color, and with a golden St. Christopher bearing Christ upon his

shoulder in the centre of it. The breeze blew, the sail bellied, over

heeled the portly vessel, and away she plunged through the smooth blue

rollers, amid the clang of the minstrels on her poop and the shouting of

the black crowd who fringed the yellow beach. To the left lay the green

Island of Wight, with its long, low, curving hills peeping over each

other's shoulders to the sky-line; to the right the wooded Hampshire

coast as far as eye could reach; above a steel-blue heaven, with a

wintry sun shimmering down upon them, and enough of frost to set the

breath a-smoking.

“By St. Paul!” said Sir Nigel gayly, as he stood upon the poop and

looked on either side of him, “it is a land which is very well worth

fighting for, and it were pity to go to France for what may be had at

home. Did you not spy a crooked man upon the beach?”

“Nay, I spied nothing,” grumbled Sir Oliver, “for I was hurried down

with a clam stuck in my gizzard and an untasted goblet of Cyprus on the

board behind me.”

“I saw him, my fair lord,” said Terlake, “an old man with one shoulder

higher than the other.”

“'Tis a sign of good fortune,” quoth Sir Nigel. “Our path was also

crossed by a woman and by a priest, so all should be well with us. What

say you, Edricson?”

“I cannot tell, my fair lord. The Romans of old were a very wise people,

yet, certes, they placed their faith in such matters. So, too, did

the Greeks, and divers other ancient peoples who were famed for their

learning. Yet of the moderns there are many who scoff at all omens.”

“There can be no manner of doubt about it,” said Sir Oliver Buttesthorn.

“I can well remember that in Navarre one day it thundered on the left

out of a cloudless sky. We knew that ill would come of it, nor had we

long to wait. Only thirteen days after, a haunch of prime venison was

carried from my very tent door by the wolves, and on the same day two

flasks of old vernage turned sour and muddy.”

“You may bring my harness from below,” said Sir Nigel to his squires,

“and also, I pray you, bring up Sir Oliver's and we shall don it here.

Ye may then see to your own gear; for this day you will, I hope, make a

very honorable entrance into the field of chivalry, and prove yourselves

to be very worthy and valiant squires. And now, Sir Oliver, as to our

dispositions: would it please you that I should order them or will you?”

“You, my cockerel, you. By Our Lady! I am no chicken, but I cannot claim

to know as much of war as the squire of Sir Walter Manny. Settle the

matter to your own liking.”

“You shall fly your pennon upon the fore part, then, and I upon the

poop. For foreguard I shall give you your own forty men, with two-score

archers. Two-score men, with my own men-at-arms and squires, will serve

as a poop-guard. Ten archers, with thirty shipmen, under the master, may

hold the waist while ten lie aloft with stones and arbalests. How like

you that?”

“Good, by my faith, good! But here comes my harness, and I must to work,

for I cannot slip into it as I was wont when first I set my face to the

wars.”

Meanwhile there had been bustle and preparation in all parts of the

great vessel. The archers stood in groups about the decks, new-stringing

their bows, and testing that they were firm at the nocks. Among them

moved Aylward and other of the older soldiers, with a few whispered

words of precept here and of warning there.

“Stand to it, my hearts of gold,” said the old bowman as he passed from

knot to knot. “By my hilt! we are in luck this journey. Bear in mind the

old saying of the Company.”

“What is that, Aylward?” cried several, leaning on their bows and

laughing at him.

“'Tis the master-bowyer's rede: 'Every bow well bent. Every shaft well

sent. Every stave well nocked. Every string well locked.' There, with

that jingle in his head, a bracer on his left hand, a shooting glove on

his right, and a farthing's-worth of wax in his girdle, what more doth a

bowman need?”

“It would not be amiss,” said Hordle John, “if under his girdle he had

four farthings'-worth of wine.”

“Work first, wine afterwards, mon camarade. But it is time that we

took our order, for methinks that between the Needle rocks and the Alum

cliffs yonder I can catch a glimpse of the topmasts of the galleys.

Hewett, Cook, Johnson, Cunningham, your men are of the poop-guard.

Thornbury, Walters, Hackett, Baddlesmere, you are with Sir Oliver on the

forecastle. Simon, you bide with your lord's banner; but ten men must go

forward.”

Quietly and promptly the men took their places, lying flat upon their

faces on the deck, for such was Sir Nigel's order. Near the prow was

planted Sir Oliver's spear, with his arms--a boar's head gules upon a

field of gold. Close by the stern stood Black Simon with the pennon of

the house of Loring. In the waist gathered the Southampton mariners,

hairy and burly men, with their jerkins thrown off, their waists braced

tight, swords, mallets, and pole-axes in their hands. Their leader,

Goodwin Hawtayne, stood upon the poop and talked with Sir Nigel, casting

his eye up sometimes at the swelling sail, and then glancing back at the

two seamen who held the tiller.

“Pass the word,” said Sir Nigel, “that no man shall stand to arms or

draw his bow-string until my trumpeter shall sound. It would be well

that we should seem to be a merchant-ship from Southampton and appear to

flee from them.”

“We shall see them anon,” said the master-shipman. “Ha, said I not so?

There they lie, the water-snakes, in Freshwater Bay; and mark the reek

of smoke from yonder point, where they have been at their devil's work.

See how their shallops pull from the land! They have seen us and called

their men aboard. Now they draw upon the anchor. See them like ants upon

the forecastle! They stoop and heave like handy ship men. But, my fair

lord, these are no niefs. I doubt but we have taken in hand more than

we can do. Each of these ships is a galeasse, and of the largest and

swiftest make.”

“I would I had your eyes,” said Sir Nigel, blinking at the pirate

galleys. “They seem very gallant ships, and I trust that we shall have

much pleasance from our meeting with them. It would be well to pass the

word that we should neither give nor take quarter this day. Have you

perchance a priest or friar aboard this ship, Master Hawtayne?”

“No, my fair lord.”

“Well, well, it is no great matter for my Company, for they were all

houseled and shriven ere we left Twynham Castle; and Father Christopher

of the Priory gave me his word that they were as fit to march to heaven

as to Gascony. But my mind misdoubts me as to these Winchester men who

have come with Sir Oliver, for they appear to be a very ungodly crew.

Pass the word that the men kneel, and that the under-officers repeat to

them the pater, the ave, and the credo.”

With a clank of arms, the rough archers and seamen took to their knees,

with bent heads and crossed hands, listening to the hoarse mutter from

the file-leaders. It was strange to mark the hush; so that the lapping

of the water, the straining of the sail, and the creaking of the timbers

grew louder of a sudden upon the ear. Many of the bowmen had drawn

amulets and relics from their bosoms, while he who possessed some

more than usually sanctified treasure passed it down the line of his

comrades, that all might kiss and reap the virtue.

The yellow cog had now shot out from the narrow waters of the Solent,

and was plunging and rolling on the long heave of the open channel. The

wind blew freshly from the east, with a very keen edge to it; and the

great sail bellied roundly out, laying the vessel over until the water

hissed beneath her lee bulwarks. Broad and ungainly, she floundered from

wave to wave, dipping her round bows deeply into the blue rollers, and

sending the white flakes of foam in a spatter over her decks. On her

larboard quarter lay the two dark galleys, which had already hoisted

sail, and were shooting out from Freshwater Bay in swift pursuit, their

double line of oars giving them a vantage which could not fail to bring

them up with any vessel which trusted to sails alone. High and bluff the

English cog; long, black and swift the pirate galleys, like two fierce

lean wolves which have seen a lordly and unsuspecting stag walk past

their forest lair.

“Shall we turn, my fair lord, or shall we carry on?” asked the

master-shipman, looking behind him with anxious eyes.

“Nay, we must carry on and play the part of the helpless merchant.”

“But your pennons? They will see that we have two knights with us.”

“Yet it would not be to a knight's honor or good name to lower his

pennon. Let them be, and they will think that we are a wine-ship for

Gascony, or that we bear the wool-bales of some mercer of the Staple. Ma

foi, but they are very swift! They swoop upon us like two goshawks on a

heron. Is there not some symbol or device upon their sails?”

“That on the right,” said Edricson, “appears to have the head of an

Ethiop upon it.”

“'Tis the badge of Tete-noire, the Norman,” cried a seaman-mariner. “I

have seen it before, when he harried us at Winchelsea. He is a wondrous

large and strong man, with no ruth for man, woman, or beast. They say

that he hath the strength of six; and, certes, he hath the crimes of six

upon his soul. See, now, to the poor souls who swing at either end of

his yard-arm!”

At each end of the yard there did indeed hang the dark figure of a man,

jolting and lurching with hideous jerkings of its limbs at every plunge

and swoop of the galley.

“By St. Paul!” said Sir Nigel, “and by the help of St. George and Our

Lady, it will be a very strange thing if our black-headed friend does

not himself swing thence ere he be many hours older. But what is that

upon the other galley?”

“It is the red cross of Genoa. This Spade-beard is a very noted captain,

and it is his boast that there are no seamen and no archers in the world

who can compare with those who serve the Doge Boccanegra.”

“That we shall prove,” said Goodwin Hawtayne; “but it would be well,

ere they close with us, to raise up the mantlets and pavises as a screen

against their bolts.” He shouted a hoarse order, and his seamen worked

swiftly and silently, heightening the bulwarks and strengthening them.

The three ship's anchors were at Sir Nigel's command carried into the

waist, and tied to the mast, with twenty feet of cable between, each

under the care of four seamen. Eight others were stationed with leather

water-bags to quench any fire-arrows which might come aboard, while

others were sent up the mast, to lie along the yard and drop stones or

shoot arrows as the occasion served.

“Let them be supplied with all that is heavy and weighty in the ship,”

said Sir Nigel.

“Then we must send them up Sir Oliver Buttesthorn,” quoth Ford.

The knight looked at him with a face which struck the smile from his

lips. “No squire of mine,” he said, “shall ever make jest of a belted

knight. And yet,” he added, his eyes softening, “I know that it is but

a boy's mirth, with no sting in it. Yet I should ill do my part towards

your father if I did not teach you to curb your tongue-play.”

“They will lay us aboard on either quarter, my lord,” cried the master.

“See how they stretch out from each other! The Norman hath a mangonel

or a trabuch upon the forecastle. See, they bend to the levers! They are

about to loose it.”

“Aylward,” cried the knight, “pick your three trustiest archers, and see

if you cannot do something to hinder their aim. Methinks they are within

long arrow flight.”

“Seventeen score paces,” said the archer, running his eye backwards and

forwards. “By my ten finger-bones! it would be a strange thing if we

could not notch a mark at that distance. Here, Watkin of Sowley, Arnold,

Long Williams, let us show the rogues that they have English bowmen to

deal with.”

The three archers named stood at the further end of the poop, balancing

themselves with feet widely spread and bows drawn, until the heads of

the cloth-yard arrows were level with the centre of the stave. “You

are the surer, Watkin,” said Aylward, standing by them with shaft upon

string. “Do you take the rogue with the red coif. You two bring down the

man with the head-piece, and I will hold myself ready if you miss. Ma

foi! they are about to loose her. Shoot, mes garcons, or you will be too

late.”

The throng of pirates had cleared away from the great wooden catapult,

leaving two of their number to discharge it. One in a scarlet cap

bent over it, steadying the jagged rock which was balanced on the

spoon-shaped end of the long wooden lever. The other held the loop of

the rope which would release the catch and send the unwieldy missile

hurtling through the air. So for an instant they stood, showing hard and

clear against the white sail behind them. The next, redcap had fallen

across the stone with an arrow between his ribs; and the other, struck

in the leg and in the throat, was writhing and spluttering upon the

ground. As he toppled backwards he had loosed the spring, and the huge

beam of wood, swinging round with tremendous force, cast the corpse of

his comrade so close to the English ship that its mangled and distorted

limbs grazed their very stern. As to the stone, it glanced off obliquely

and fell midway between the vessels. A roar of cheering and of laughter

broke from the rough archers and seamen at the sight, answered by a yell

of rage from their pursuers.

“Lie low, mes enfants,” cried Aylward, motioning with his left hand.

“They will learn wisdom. They are bringing forward shield and mantlet.

We shall have some pebbles about our ears ere long.”