Chapter IV

After all, employment, next to a clear conscience, is the best antidote to a brown-study. Hildebrand, it is true, did not possess the one, but he was soon to forget his uneasiness in the bustle of the other. On his arrival in London, he proceeded straight to the residence of Sir Walter Raleigh, in the Strand; and there, to his great contentment, found a sphere opened to him, which promised to leave him little opportunity for melancholy.

Sir Walter received both him and Don Rafaele with the utmost warmth and eagerness. Their greetings being despatched, he acquainted Hildebrand, in a few words, with the object and nature of the service in which he was to be employed. From what he said, Hildebrand learned that these particulars were yet secret, but that it was understood, among the few who were informed on such matters, that he would be directed to sail immediately for the coast of Spain, and collect information relative to the expected armada. He told him, further, that he would sail with the Queen’s commission, in his own ship, which had been taken up by the Government for the public service, and was now perfectly ready to put to sea.

“And now that I have told thee all,” he concluded, “let us straight to horse, and ride off to Deptford, to my Lord Admiral. I know he waits us with some impatience.”

“We will to him out of hand, then,” answered Hildebrand. “Don Rafaele will wait our return here.”

The personage referred to, understanding what was said, at once agreed to the proposal, and the two friends thereupon prepared to set forth. Their horses were soon ready; and, taking leave of Don Rafaele, who followed them to the door, and waited to see them depart, they quickly mounted, and set forward for Deptford.

Hitherto Hildebrand had seen little preparation against the formidable armada of which he had brought the first intimation to England, and which threatened not only the independence, but the religion, and even the very existence of the empire. On his way through the city, however, nothing was to be seen but martial costumes, and warlike provisions. The staid citizens, who had never known any parade but Sir Thomas Gresham’s new “Bourse,” bore themselves like soldiers, and looked fresh from the drill-ground; and even the ’prentices walked erect, and aspired to look like Cæsars. Cutlers’ marts seemed to be the popular places of resort; and the lucky shop that, among other weapons, could exhibit to public view one of the clumsy firelocks then in use, and which are to this day called after the reigning sovereign, by the name of “Brown Bess,” was more frequented than the Paris Garden. London-bridge and the Borough looked no less alive to the crisis; and beyond, in St. George’s-fields, and through the whole line of road to Deptford, were seen companies of recruits, arrayed in the most motley habits, undergoing the initiatory and vexatious process of drill.

But it was at Deptford, the principal depôt of the marine, that the greatest preparations against the expected invasion were in progress. Here were clearly at work the master-spirits of the age. Artificers, engineers, officers, mariners, and labourers were seen engaged in their various departments with the regularity of machines. The burring of furnaces, the ringing of anvils, the rattling of hammers, and the hilloing of sailors, as cannon were cast, balls moulded, and ships laid down or re-rigged, created so loud and confused a din, that sounds could hardly be distinguished, and the voice could only be heard when raised to its highest pitch.

Pushing past various groups of officers and mariners, Sir Walter and Hildebrand proceeded straight to the office of the Lord Admiral, Lord Howard of Effingham, in the chief dock-yard. On sending that officer his name, Sir Walter was ordered to be admitted; and under the guidance of the porter, he repaired, together with Hildebrand, to the Admiral’s presence.

There were two personages in the room to which they were conducted. One of them, who was no other than the Lord Admiral, was an elderly man, of rather tall stature, and a grave, but commanding presence. The other was little beyond the middle age; and but for his laced jerkin, which spoke him an officer, would hardly have been looked upon as a gentleman. Although, however, his stature was mean, and his manners far from graceful, there was a certain touch of daring in his face, especially in his eye, that quickly won him attention, and even gave him a look of authority. His features, moreover, were so familiar to Englishmen, from the respect which was paid to them by the sign-boards of taverns, and other places of resort, that they required no beauty to recommend them to notice, but commanded admiration by their very plainness. He was Sir Francis Drake.

The two admirals rose as Sir Walter entered, and extended their hands to welcome him.

“My Lord Admiral, how is it with you?” cried Sir Walter, taking his proffered hand. “Sir Francis,” he added, as he extended that personage his other hand, “give thee the fair time of day!”

“Fair time enough, Sir Walter,” replied Drake. “’Tis but little past six bells.”

“Sir Walter wishes thee a fair day,” said the Lord Admiral, in explanation of Sir Walter’s greeting.

“Marry, come up, but methought he spoke to the clock!” cried Drake. “Howsomever, the day is a fair one, though it blows marvellous slack. I’ve seen windier days.”

“Ay, ay, doubtless,” observed Sir Walter, laughing. “But, my Lord Admiral,” he continued, turning to that officer, “I have brought thee the captain of the ‘Eliza,’ who was so heartily preferred to thy favour by her Highness.”

Here Hildebrand, who had hitherto remained at the door, stepped somewhat forward, and prepared to pay the Lord Admiral his respects. Before he could effect his purpose, however, he was arrested by Drake, who, springing forward, came between him and the Lord Admiral, and caught him by the hand.

“Harkye, in your ear, tip us thy grappling-iron!” he cried. “Blow me taught, but thou’rt a fair-weather fellow, too, to overhaul the Don’s shiners! Harkye, in your ear, we’ll have a jorum of liquor anon, at the ‘Three Jolly Mariners,’ in the town yonder.”

“I am marvellous grieved to stop good entertainment,” cried the Lord Admiral, laughing; “but worthy Master Clifford (methinks, I have his name right) must even to sea straight.”

“Though I would fain have spent an hour with good Sir Francis, my Lord, I am ready to set forth incontinently,” smiled Hildebrand.

“Marry, and splice my timbers, well spoken!” exclaimed Drake. “Harkye, in your ear, I be moored at ‘The Three Jolly Mariners;’ and, sink me, but better liquor can be had nowhere!”

“I’faith, I will speak it fair,” cried Sir Walter Raleigh, “by the same token that your worship once nigh choked me with a cup on’t, which did cause my Lady Nottingham, and divers other ladies of note, to laugh right heartily. But my Lord Admiral grows impatient.”

“The matter is urgent,” replied the Lord Admiral. “Captain Clifford,” he added to Hildebrand, “canst thou away to-night?”

“I fear me, no, my Lord,” answered Hildebrand; “for I have not yet been aboard.”

“Oh, all is ready aboard,” returned the Admiral. “Further, thy ship lies off the dock here, and can away at once.”

“Some time to-night, then, my Lord, we will go!” answered Hildebrand.

“You will find your orders aboard, not to be opened till you are off the Start,” said the Lord Admiral. “And now, not to detain thee longer, when thou hast so little time, give thee farewell, and God speed thee!”

He extended his hand as he spoke, and Hildebrand, with a profound bow, caught it up, and clasped it earnestly. He next bade farewell to Sir Francis Drake, who, as he clasped his hand, implored him, “in his ear,” but in a very loud voice, to remember the sign of “The Three Jolly Mariners,” and to be sure to “bear up” thither on his return. Hildebrand promised compliance, as did Sir Walter Raleigh also; and he and Hildebrand, without more words, then departed.

Although Hildebrand had expressed his readiness to leave England immediately, he was not so fully prepared, in regard to his personal affairs, as he at first conceived. However he might manage respecting himself, he could not so easily resolve how to dispose of Don Rafaele. It would be impossible, he felt, to take that person with him, as the enterprise he was about to embark in would doubtless be attended with great peril; and to leave him in England, where he was unknown, and where his youth and inexperience would have no protector, was almost equally repugnant to him. Unable to determine how he should act in the matter, he disclosed his embarrassing position to Sir Walter; and asked that cavalier, to whose opinion he invariably deferred, for his counsel thereon.

“Prithee, let it give thee no concern, good Clifford,” answered Sir Walter. “He shall take up his abode with me; and, I promise thee, in case thou incur any mishap, he shall find in me a warm and hearty friend.”

“That I am right sure of,” rejoined Hildebrand, “and heartily thank thee withal. But let us to the ship.”

“Nay, we will send thither my groom,” said Sir Walter, “to notify to Master Halyard, whom the Lord Admiral has retained as thy lieutenant, that thou wilt be aboard at eventide. We will straight to town.”

Hildebrand acquiesced in this arrangement; and it was, accordingly, on their arrival at the dock-yard gate, carried into execution. When the groom had been despatched to Master Halyard, Sir Walter and Hildebrand, without further delay, mounted their horses, and set out for town.

On reaching Durham House, they were hailed with eagerness by Don Rafaele, who inquired as curiously after the news, especially in the matter which had taken them forth, as though he were an Englishman.

“The news is, that I am straightway to take to the seas again, my fair Rafaele,” answered Hildebrand. “But be not thou discomposed thereat. Our right noble friend, Sir Walter here, will stand to thee in my stead, and provide thee a homestead ashore.”

Don Rafaele changed colour.

“I’faith, he likes not me for a host so well as thou,” cried Sir Walter, laughing. “I entreat thee, fair Senhor, look not on me with disfavour. By my lady’s hand, thou shalt find me a right faithful friend.”

Don Rafaele, whether he credited Sir Walter’s protestation, or not, turned his head aside, and made no reply. That he was moved, however, and even deeply, was apparent; for his broad chest heaved again, and his face retained no trace of colour.

“Nay, nay, be not downcast, Rafaele!” cried Hildebrand, yet in a voice far from cheering. “By my soul, the only grief that I know in this matter is, that I shall leave thee behind.”

“Then, wherefore not take me with thee?” asked Don Rafaele, in a tone of reproach.

“That were not reasonable,” answered Hildebrand. “I go on a mission of singular and exceeding peril.”

“Peril?” echoed Don Rafaele, raising his eyes, which, to his surprise, Hildebrand now perceived were dashed with tears:--“Peril, saidst thou? We had peril, methinks, on our way hither--ay, and singular and exceeding peril, too. Did I make any plaint thereat? Did I--did I shrink?”

“By my faith, no!” exclaimed Hildebrand.

“I would be surety for thee, that thy valour is above question,” cried Sir Walter.

“Thanks, thanks, noble Sir!” said Don Rafaele. “I hold thy hearty assurances right welcome; yet is thy face, for all that, not familiar to me as Master Clifford’s. I beseech thee, forget not I am in a strange land, where I have no kindred. Remember thee, furthermore, how notably young I am; and I was reared right tenderly, I dare affirm. Prithee, then, let me with thee!”

“I’faith, I can refuse thee no further, my Rafaele,” cried Hildebrand; “and only for the hazard to thyself, I were right content to have thy fair company. We will even fix it so.”

Don Rafaele was overjoyed at this answer. At Hildebrand’s suggestion, he immediately proceeded, with more cheerfulness than one might have looked for, to prepare himself for their meditated voyage. His preparations were soon completed; but those of Hildebrand, which were of a more varied character, and not so much at command, occupied a longer time. They, too, however, were quite accomplished before the evening, and everything was arranged for their instant departure.

It was with evident discomposure that they achieved the final step of taking leave of Sir Walter. That cavalier, indeed, would have accompanied them to the ship; but as he would have to come back alone, and the night promised to be a dirty one, they would by no means suffer him to do so. Having, after manifold hesitating pauses, ultimately resolved to depart, they took leave of him at the door, and set forward for Deptford by themselves.

It was growing late by the time they arrived at the tavern where they were to leave their horses. Thence they walked to Deptford Creek, where Hildebrand’s message to Halyard, conveyed by the groom in the morning, had directed him to provide them a boat. Their luggage, which, as the greater part of their personal effects had never been removed from the ship, consisted of only two boxes, was, by the alertness of their groom, brought down with them by two porters, and thus they had no care but to transport themselves to the ship.

As they expected, they found a boat, manned by a picked crew, waiting at the creek for their reception. Amidst a loud hurrah, which made their hearts spring again, they took their seats in the stern; their luggage was safely bestowed in the midships; and they shoved off for the cruizer.

She was lying but a little way out, with just water enough at low tide, which was now turning, to keep her afloat. Everything was arranged for her captain’s reception; and Master Halyard himself, with Tom Tarpaulin, now towering in the elevated quality of mate, were seen in the gangway, keeping a look-out. As the anxiously expected boat began to be distinguished, the merry whistle of the boatswain, which the prevailing stillness rendered audible at a good distance, was heard piping to quarters; the seamen were seen scrambling up the rigging, manning the yards; and a picked squad, under the orders of Master Halyard, fell in file at the gangway, ready to receive their captain on his arrival. Loud and renewed cheers broke from the crew, as, with his head uncovered, in compliment to the national flag, which was flying aloft, Hildebrand stepped on to the deck. As he did so, Master Halyard, who also was uncovered, presented him with a sealed packet, stamped with the royal arms. Advancing to a contiguous light, Hildebrand tore the packet open; and found within, in two separate envelopes, his sealed orders, and the Queen’s commission. He immediately ordered the crew to be piped to the quarter-deck, and there, in their presence, read his commission aloud. This done, he proceeded to set his ship on her way.

The wind, though somewhat light, was favourable; and as the tide turned, and the ship was cast off from her buoy, the sails soon spread out, and carried her on gallantly. It was morning, however, before she cleared the river, and three days had elapsed when she came off the Start. There, agreeably to the Lord Admiral’s injunction, Hildebrand opened the packet which contained his orders. By these he was directed, in the first place, to sail for the Mediterranean, and endeavour to ascertain the precise force and organization of the Spanish Armada. Should he be unable to ascertain this information in that quarter, he was to exercise his own judgment, though circumspectly, as to where else he should seek it; but, at any hazard, he was to leave nothing undone that could lead to its acquisition.

He sailed for the Mediterranean direct. The wind, however, occasionally varied, and, after he had cleared the channel, was not decidedly in his favour the whole voyage. Upwards of three weeks elapsed, therefore, before he arrived at the Straits. There the wind took a turn, and carried him on, with occasional lulls, till he came in sight of Cape de Gatte. What wind ever doubled that point? As the good ship “Eliza,” with her crew full of hope, expecting to sustain no impediment, made it her landmark, the wind suddenly lulled, and left them off the eternal Cape becalmed. There they lay for three whole weeks, broiling in the sun, and rolling in sickening agitation on the long, swollen sea.

But the wind came, at last--a scorching sirocco. Away scudded the ship, like a water-witch, and, in a fortnight’s time, arrived off the Bay of Naples. Mounting the Danish flag, Hildebrand ventured, though against the advice of Master Halyard, to enter the bay, and there come to an anchor. But though it was one of the chief ports of the Spanish empire, he saw nothing in the bay, as far as his observation could push itself, in the shape of warlike preparation. After several days’ interval, finding that he was not noticed by the authorities, and, furthermore, that he could gain no information without some greater risk, he determined to hazard a visit to the shore, and seek for information among the disaffected natives. Accordingly, one night, when it came on very dark, he manned his boat with a picked crew, and set out for a neighbouring fishing village. He found the inhabitants more favourable to his design than he had even expected. Without incurring much risk, he learned, in answer to his inquiries, that the Neapolitan division of the armada had sailed for Lisbon, and that the Tagus was to be the rendezvous of the whole force. Satisfied that he could learn nothing further, he instantly returned to his ship; and resolved, if possible, to slip out of the harbour, and take a cruize off the Tagus. The night was dark; the wind was as fair as could be wished; and the proverbial indolence of the Spanish authorities, which no emergency could induce them to discard, made him hopeful that he would be able to get away unmolested. His expectations were realised, and he cleared the harbour without difficulty.

When he had gained the open sea, the wind carried him on very steadily, and at more than an average speed, till he came off the everlasting Cape, when, of course, it dropped. After the usual interval of three weeks, however, it returned, and bore him on to the Straits. Thence he had a fair passage to the north of Portugal.

The Bay of Biscay is by no means a pleasant district for a cruizer; and after pitching about there for two whole days, in the hope of picking up some venturous fisherman, and finally despairing of such a result, Hildebrand made the bold resolution of entering the Tagus. With the knowledge that there was collected there an armada pronounced invincible, which had been equipped for the purpose of subjugating his country, and effacing its name from the map of nations--with a perfect conviction that, if detected, escape, through hosts of foes, and in the face of a hundred batteries, would be an utter impossibility--sensible that a mere suspicion of his being an Englishman would lead to his immediate execution as a spy--this intrepid and fearless man, without one qualm of hesitation, without one apprehension of the result, turned his ship about, and steered straight for the Tagus.