CHAPTER III.
MASTER JERNINGHAM'S MADNESS.
"I must and will obtain her; I am ashes else."--_The Humourous Lieutenant._
Now it happened that while Captain Ravenshaw and his companions werespeeding up Bread Street toward Cheapside, the Spanish-hatted gentlemanof whom they were in quest was plodding down Friday Street toward thetavern at whose door they had left his friends. When he arrived there,he gave a knock similar to that which had served to open the house tothe handsome gallant of the double-pointed beard; and presently, afterbeing inspected through a small grating in the door, he was admitted.
"Is Sir Clement Ermsby above?" he asked the sleepy menial who had lethim in.
"Yes, your worship. An't please you, he and his friends came in buta little while ago. They're in the Neptune room. A cold night, yourworship."
"How many of his friends?"
"Three, sir. There were e'en five or six more with him outside, atfirst; but they went their ways. Methinks there was some quarrel, but Iknow not."
The gentleman pushed his hat back from his brow, and looked a triflerelieved. He stood for a moment with his eye on the servant, as if tosee that the man barred the door properly, and then he went up-stairsto a room at the rear of the tavern. The tapestry of this chamberrepresented the sea, with the ocean god and a multitude of other marinefigures. Around the fire sat the newcomer's friends, smoking pipes;they greeted him with laughter.
"Ho, ho!" cried the handsome gallant. "She 'scaped you, after all! Thepinnace was too fleet!"
"I gained all I wished," said the broad-breasted gentleman, coolly,speaking in curt syllables. "I had no mind to close in combat. I didnot even let her know I was giving chase. But I saw what port she madeinto; I know where to seek her when the time is propitious."
With a faint smile of triumph over his comrades, the gentleman, whohad thrown off his plain cloak while speaking, stepped close to thefire, removed his gloves, and began to warm his fingers. He was ofmiddle stature, thick-bodied, heavily bearded, of a brown complexion;his expression of face was melancholy, moody, dreamy; as he gazed intothe fire he seemed lost in his own thoughts. His momentary smile hadbrought a singularly sweet and noble light into his face; but thatlight had vanished with the smile.
"I must thank you, Ermsby, and all of ye," he said, after a shortsilence. "You drew the fellow away like the best of cozeners. How gotyou rid of him so soon?"
"Faith, by his taking note of your absence, and guessing what wasafoot," replied the handsome gallant. "He's e'en looking for you now. Amurrain on him! his ribs should have felt steel, but for thy fear of abrawl, Jerningham."
"Thou'rt a fool, Ermsby," answered Jerningham, continuing to gaze withsaturnine countenance into the fire; "and my daring to call thee sotells how much I fear a fight for its own sake. How often must I putit to you in plain terms? If I be found concerned in roystering orrioting, I forfeit the countenance of my pious kinsman, the bishop.With that I forfeit the further use of his money in our enterprise.Without his money, how are we to complete the fitting of our ship? Noship, no voyage. No voyage, no possessing the fertile islands; and sono fortune, and there's an end. Pish, man, shall we lose all for asight of some unknown rascal's filthy blood? Not I. You shall see meplay the very Puritan till the day my ship lifts anchor for the Westernseas."
"You have played the Puritan to-night, sooth," said Ermsby. "To stealafter a wench under cover of night, and find out her house for yourhidden purposes in future,--there's the soul of Puritanism. Where doesshe live?"
"I'll still be puritanical, and keep that knowledge to myself," saidJerningham, with the least touch of a smile.
"Nay, man, the secret is ours, too!" protested Ermsby. "We helped youto it. Come, you had best tell; that will put us on our honour to leaveher all to you. If you don't, by my conscience, I'll hunt high and lowtill I find out for myself, and then I won't acknowledge any right ofyours to her. Tell us, and make us your abettors; or tell us not, andmake us your rivals."
Jerningham was silent for a moment, while he motioned the attendingservant to pour him out some wine; then, evidently knowing his men, hereplied:
"She led me but a short chase; which was well, as I had to go upon mytoes--the sound of her steps was all I had to guide me. When the soundstopped, in Friday Street, I heard the creaking of a gate; it meant shehad gone into a back yard. I went on softly, feeling the walls with myhands, till I came to the gate; and there I heard a key turning in adoor. I had naught to do but find out what house the gate belonged to.'Twas the house at the corner of Cheapside."
"And Friday Street? Which side of Friday Street?"
"'SHE LED ME BUT A SHORT CHASE.'"]
"The east side. 'Tis a goldsmith's shop. Does any one know whatgoldsmith dwells there?"
No one remembered. These were all gentlemen who, when they were notat sea, divided most of their time between the country and the court;at present they lodged toward the Charing Cross end of the Strand,in a row of houses opposite the riverside palaces of the great. ButJerningham himself lived with his kinsman, the bishop, in WinchesterHouse, across the Thames.
"Time enough to learn that, and win a score of goldsmith's daughters,and tire of 'em too, ere the ship is fitted," said Ermsby, losinginterest in the subject; whereupon the conversation shifted to thematter of the ship, then being repaired at Deptford.
From this they fell to dicing,--all but Jerningham, who sat lookingsteadily before him, as if he saw visions through the clouds of tobaccosmoke he sent forth. Presently was heard the noise of pounding at thestreet door below.
"'Tis that rascal come back, ten to one; he has given over huntingyou," said Ermsby to Jerningham.
"Then be sure you open not, Timothy," said Jerningham, addressing thetavern drawer who was staying up to wait upon those privileged to usethe house after closing hours.
"No fear," replied Timothy. "They may hammer till they be dead, anthey give not the right knock. I'll e'en go look down from the frontwindow, and see who 'tis."
Ermsby went with him; and presently returned with him, saying:
"'Tis our man; and Timothy here knows him. It seems he is oneRavenshaw, a roaring captain. I've heard of the fellow; he talks loudin taverns, and will fight any man for sixpence; a kind of ranger ofTurnbull Street--"
"Nay," corrected Timothy; "he is no counterfeit, as most of thoserangers be. He roars, and brags, and looks fierce, as they do; buthe was with Sir John Norris in Portugal and France, and he can usethe rapier, or rapier and dagger, with any man that ever came out ofSaviolo's school. I have seen him with the foils, in this very room,when he made all the company wonder. And 'tis well known what duels hehas fought. One time, in Hogsdon fields--"
"Oh, that is the man, is it?" said Jerningham, cutting off the drawer'sthreatened torrent of reminiscence. "Then so much the better he hasgrown tired of beating at the door. He has gone away, I trust. As yelove me, gentlemen, no scandals till the ship is armed, provisioned,manned, and ready every way for the tide that shall bear us down theThames."
"And look that you bring no scandal in your siege of this goldsmith'sdaughter," said Ermsby, jocularly.
"Trust me for that," replied Jerningham.
It was several weeks after this night, and the chilling frown of winterhad given place to the smile of May, when, upon a sunny morning, SirClement Ermsby, followed by a young page, stepped from a Thames wherryat Winchester stairs to confer with Master Jerningham upon the lastpreparations for their voyage. They were to sail in three days.
Jerningham was pacing the terrace, frowning upon the ground at hisfeet, his look more moody than ever, and with something distraught init; now and then he drew in his breath audibly between his lips, orallowed some restless movement of the hands to belie his customaryself-control.
"What a devil is it afflicts you, man?" was Ermsby's greeting, whilehis page stood at a respectful distance, and began playing with twogreyhounds that came bounding up. "This manner is something new. I'veseen it for a week in
you. Beshrew me if I don't think an evil spirithas crept into you. What's the matter?"
"Nothing's the matter," said Jerningham, in a growling tone. "'Tis myhumour."
"'Tis a humour there's no excuse for, then, on a day like this, andwith such a prospect before one's eyes." As Sir Clement spoke, helooked over the balustrade to the Thames and the countless-gabled frontof the spire-studded city.
The Thames and London were fair to see then. The river was widerthan it is now, and was comparatively clean. Swans floated upon itssurface, and it was lively with passenger craft,--sailboats, rowboats,tilt-boats, and boats with wooden cabins, gaily decorated bargesbelonging to royalty and nobility. The Thames, with its numerouslanding-stairs, was the principal highway of London. When the queenwent from Whitehall to Greenwich, it was, of course, by this waterthoroughfare. It was the more convenient way of transit between thecity and Westminster, where the courts were held. It had but one bridgeat London then,--the old London Bridge of the children's song, "LondonBridge is falling down;" the bridge that was a veritable street ofhouses, and which stood some distance east of where the present LondonBridge stands. To many people the better way of crossing to Southwark,when they went to the playhouses or the bear-gardens, was by boat.Water-men were at every landing-place, soliciting custom. When at work,they often sang as they plied the oars. The rich, when they would amusethemselves upon the river in their handsome tilt-boats, took musicianswith them. On a fine May day, in the reign of Elizabeth, when thelittle green waves sparkled in the sunshine, the Thames alone was asight worth looking at from the terrace of Winchester House, which,as everybody knows, was on the Southwark side, west of the beautifulChurch of St. Mary Overie (now St. Saviour's), and which thus commandeda fine view of river and city-front.
Beginning at the far west, where the river came into sight afterpassing Westminster and Whitehall, its northern bank presented firstthe long row of great houses that came as far as to the Temple,--housesthat were really town castles, with spacious gardens, whose riverwalls were broken by gates, whence were steps descending to the water.Nearer, grew the stately trees of the Temple garden; nearer yet, rosefrom the river's edge the frowning walls of the Bridewell, once apalace, and of Baynard's Castle. And here the eye was drawn up and backfrom the water-front, which henceforth abounded with wharves, by thehuge bulk of St. Paul's, which stood amidst a multitude of ordinarybuildings like a giant among pigmies,--the old St. Paul's, Gothic,with its square tower in the centre, its crosses crowning the ends andcorners, its delicate pinnacles rising from its flying buttresses,its beautiful doorways and rose windows. Coming still eastward, theeye swept a great mass of gabled houses ascending in irregular tiersfrom the river, the sky-line broken by church towers and steeplesinnumerable. Directly opposite Winchester House, the river stairs thatfell from the tall, narrow buildings were mainly for commercial uses.A little further east, the view was shut in by the close-packed houseson the bridge, so that one could not see the Tower, or the largershipping off the wharves in the lower river.
But this morning the sight was nothing to Master Jerningham, whoseonly answer to his friend was to look the more harassed and woebegone.Ermsby suddenly took alarm.
"How now? Has anything ill befallen at Deptford?" he asked.
"No. All goes forward fast--too fast." And Jerningham sighed.
"How too fast? How can that be? Good God, man, have you lost heart forthe voyage?"
"Never that. You know me better. But we shall soon be sailing, and thehours go, and yet I am no further with--oh, a plague on secrecy, 'tisthat wench. There is no way under heaven I can even get speech of her."
"What wench?" inquired Ermsby, in whose thoughts there had been morethan one wench since the reader first made his acquaintance.
"What wench! Gods above, is there more than one?--worth a man's lyingawake at night to sigh for, I mean."
"And is there one such, then? Faith, an there be, I have not seen herof late."
"Yes, you have. Scarce three months ago."
"That's three ages, where women are concerned. Who is this incomparableshe?"
"That goldsmith's daughter--you remember the night we chased her fromCheapside down Bread Street, and came near a quarrel with Ravenshaw thebully, and I followed to see where she lived?"
"Faith, I remember. A pretty little thing. And she has held you off allthis time? Man, man, you must have blundered terribly! What plan ofcampaign have you employed against her?"
"I have not been able to pass words with her, I tell you. She rarelygoes forth from home at all, and when she does 'tis with both parents,and a woman, and a stout 'prentice or two. I have stood in wait nightafter night, thinking she might try to run away again; but she has not."
"Why, you know not your first letter in the study of how to woocitizens' womankind. Go to her father's shop while she is there, andcontrive to have her wait upon you. Flattery, vows, and promises soundall the softer for being whispered over a counter."
"I have watched, and when I have been busy at the ship, my man Gregoryhas watched. But she never comes into the shop. She has a devil ofshrewdness for a father; a rock-faced man, of few words, with eyes oneverything. He already suspects me; for now whenever I go near hisshop he comes from his business and stares at me as if he offereddefiance."
"A plague on these citizens. They dare outface gentlemen nowadays.They are so rich, and the law is on their side, curse 'em! A goldsmiththinks himself as good as a lord."
"This one has taught his very 'prentices to look big at me as I pass.And Gregory--he is a sly hound, as you know, and when I put him on hismettle for the conveyance of a letter to the girl's waiting-woman, hewas ready to sell himself to the devil for the wit to accomplish it.But he could not; and they have smelt a purpose in his doings, too. Thelast time he went near the shop, and stood trying to get the eye ofsome serving-maid at a window, two of the goldsmith's 'prentices cameout and, pretending not to see him, ran hard against him and laid himsprawling in the street."
"And he let them go with whole skins? Had he no dagger?"
"Of what use? They are very stout fellows, all in that shop. And theywould have had only to cry 'Clubs,' and every 'prentice in Cheapsidewould have come to cudgel Gregory to death. They have too manyprivileges in the city, pox on 'em!"
"You should have begun by making friends with the goldsmith openly, andso got access to his house. Then you could have cozened him when thetime came."
"But 'tis too late for that now. Besides, these citizens distrust aman the first moment, when they have wives and daughters. Oh, we havetried every way, both myself and Gregory. Gregory found a pot-boy, atthe White Horse tavern, that knew one of the maids in the house, and wetried to pass a letter by means of those two. But the letter got intothe father's hands, and the maid was cast off, and I'm glad I signed afalse name. I know not if Mistress Millicent ever saw the letter."
"Is Millicent her name?"
"Ay. She is the only child. Her father is Thomas Etheridge, thegoldsmith, at the sign of the Golden Acorn, in Cheapside at the cornerof Friday Street. And nothing more do I know of her, but that I amgoing mad for her. And now that I have opened all to you, in God's nametell me what I shall do. Though we sail in three days, I must have herin my arms for one sweet hour, at least, ere I go. Laugh if you will!Call it madness. 'Tis the worse, then, and the more needs quenching.What shall I do?"
"Use a better messenger; one that can get the ear of the maid and yet'scape the eye of the father; one that can win her to a meeting withyou. Such things are managed daily. Howsoever hedged by husbands, orfenced by fathers, the fair ones of the city are still to be come at.Employ a go-between."
"Have I not tried Gregory? Where he has failed, how shall any otherservant fare? Not one of those at my command has a tithe of his wit.Nor has any of our sea-rogues."
"Why, the look of being a gentleman's serving-man will damn any knavein the eye of a wary citizen, nowadays. And Gregory hath the face of arascal besides. Employ none of that degree. As for
our sea-rogues, wechose 'em witless, for our own advantage."
"Troth, you might serve me in this matter, Ermsby. You have the wit;and you should find good pastime in it."
"Faith, not I. I know the taste of 'prentice's cudgel. I'll tell youa tale; 'twill warn you that, when love's path leads into the city,you'd best see it made sure and smooth ere you tread it yourself. Oneday as I was going to the play in Blackfriars, my glance fell upon ashandsome a piece of female citizenship as you'll meet any day 'twixtFleet Street and the Tower. She saw me looking, and looked in turn;and I resolved to let the play go hang, and follow her. She had withher an old woman and a 'prentice boy, and her look seemed to advise menot to accost her in their presence. So I walked behind her, smilingmy sweetest each time she turned her head around. She led me into agrocer's shop in Bucklersbury. I could see by her manner there that shewas at home; there was no husband in sight, the shop being kept by two'prentices. Here she forthwith sent the woman up-stairs, and turned asif she would attend upon me herself. Now, thought I, my happiness issoon to be assured; and I was rejoicing within, for each time I hadseen her face she had looked more lovely. Sooth, the ripeness of thoselips--!"
"Well, well, what happened?"
"I went but to open the matter with a courteous kiss on the cheek; butthe more luscious fruit hung too near, so I stopped me at the lipsinstead, and stopped overlong there. She made pretence--I swear 'twaspretence--to push me away, and to be much angry and abused. But thezany 'prentices knew not this virtuous resistance was make-believe,and they ran at me as if I were some thief caught in the act. I metthe first with a clout in the face, but they were stout knaves andmade nothing of laying hands upon me. I shook them off, and then,being at the back of the shop, drew my sword to ensure my passage tothe street. But that instant they raised the cry, 'Clubs!' and ran andgot their own cudgels, and came menacing me again. While I was makingplay with my rapier, thinking to fright them off, all the 'prenticesin Bucklersbury began to pour into the shop, shouting clubs andbrandishing 'em at the same time. I saw there was naught to do butcut my way through by letting out the blood of any grocer's knave or'pothecary's boy that should stand before me. But ere I had made twothrusts in earnest, my rapier was knocked from my hand by a club. Acloud of other clubs rained on my head, shoulders, and body. And soI cowered helpless, seeing nothing before me but the chance of beingpounded to a jelly by the crowd."
"And what miracle occurred?"
"The wit of woman intervened. She that I had followed laid hold of somebox or bag, and thrust her fingers in, and began flinging the contentsby handfuls into the air. It was ground pepper. In a moment every manJack in the shop was sneezing as if there were a prize for it. Sucha shaking, and bending forward of bodies, and holding of noses, wasnever seen elsewhere. Every fellow was taken with a sneezing fit thatlasted minutes, for the woman still threw the pepper about, regardlessof the work it had done. Limp and half-blind as every rascal was, andbusied with each new spasm coming on, they paid no more heed to me; andso, sneezing like the rest, I pushed through unregarded to the street.I fled down Walbrook, and came not to an end of sneezing till I hadtaken boat at Dowgate wharf. I went home, then, and put my bruises tobed; and I know not how many days it was till I had done aching. Bethankful thou hast not fared in the goldsmith's shop e'en worse thanI fared in the grocer's; for there is no pepper kept in goldsmith'sshops."
"I know not then what kind of emissary to send. As you say, aserving-man is too easily seen through. A gentleman will not riskthe cudgel. I know a lawyer, a beggarly knave eager for any sort ofquestionable transaction."
"Nay, he'll make a botch of it, as lawyers do of everything they settheir hands to."
"How if I tried a woman? 'Tis often done, I believe. As thieves are setto catch thieves, so set a woman--"
"Ay, women have zest for the business; especially the taintedones--they joy to infect their sisters whose purity they secretly envy.They that have spots take comfort in company, as misery doth. Yet theywill serve you ill; for they ever bring entanglement on those theyweave their plots for, as well as on those they weave against. Cityhusbands and fathers have grown wiser, too; they've learned to look forlove-plots in their women's fellowship with other women. Unless you'drisk some chance of failure with this maid--"
"By God, that I will not! I must have a sure messenger."
"I would mine own page yonder had the wit, that I might lend him. Butwhen I choose a servant, 'tis rather for lack of wit in him; else hemight take it into his head to outwit his master. My boy there serveswell enough to carry sonnets to court ladies; but he would never do foryour business. You say this goldsmith is watchful. Therefore, you wanta man the most unlike the common go-betweens in such affairs; a manthat looks the last in the world to be chosen as love's ambassador."
"Some venerable Puritan, perchance," said Jerningham, with the slightirony of one not quite convinced.
"Ay, if one could be found needy enough to want your money; but that'shopeless. We must seek a poor devil that hath a good wit and can act apart. If we had one such in our ship's company--What, Gregory! Have youbeen listening, knave?"
Sir Clement's break was caused by his perceiving, upon suddenly turningaround, that Jerningham's man stood near, with a suspicious cock ofthe head. This Gregory was just the fellow to steal up without noise;he had long cultivated the silent footfall. He was a lean man of aboutthirty-five years; a little bent, and with a long neck, so that hishead always seemed hastening before his body, which could never catchup. He had a small, sharp face, of an ashen complexion, and with fishy,greenish eyes; his expression was that of cunning cloaked in calmimpudence.
"No offence, sirs," said he, glibly, stepping forward with bowed head."I couldn't help hearing a little. If I may say so, sirs, my masterneedn't yet look abroad for one to do his business. I think I have ashift or two still, if I may be so bold."
"You may not be so bold, Gregory," said Jerningham. "Disguises are wellenough in Spanish tales and stage plays; but you'd be caught, and allbrought home to me and the bishop's ears. He could stay our ship at thelast hour, an he had a mind to. Go to; and do and speak when you arebid, not else."
The serving-man stepped back, looking humiliated.
"He's already green with jealousy of the man you shall employ," saidErmsby, with unkind amusement at the knave's discomfiture.
"Ay, he's touchy that way. A faithful dog--and bound to be so, for Iknow a thing or two that would hang him. But to reach this maid, I musthave another Mercury. Where shall I find this witty poor rascal that isto cozen old Argus, her father, and get me access to her?"
"Why, but for going to Deptford, we might seek him forthwith. The hourbefore dinner is the right time. But--"
"Then let us seek. There's no need we go to Deptford to-day. We cannothaste matters at the ship; all's in good hands there. In God's name,come find me this fellow."
"Bid Gregory hail a boat, then," said Ermsby; and, after the servanthad been sent ahead to the stairs on that errand, and Ermsby hadmotioned his own page to go thither, he continued: "We shall go toPaul's first, where we got so many of our shipmates; there we shallhave choice of half the penniless companions, starved wits, masterlessmen, cast soldiers, skulking debtors, and serviceable rascals inLondon. Of a surety, you can buy any service there; there's truth inwhat the plays say."
The two gentlemen, attended by Gregory and the page, were soon embarkedin a wherry whose prow the watermen headed against the current, thedestination being some distance up-stream on the opposite bank.
"What of Meg Falkner?" Ermsby said, suddenly, in a tone too low for theservants to hear. "Are you rid of her yet?"
Jerningham's brow turned darker by a shade.
"That were as great a puzzle as to reach this goldsmith's wench," hereplied. "I would have married her to Gregory; it seemed no mean fatefor a yeoman's daughter that had buried a brat; but she'd have none ofthat. I durs'n't turn her out lest she make a noise that might come tothe bishop. I'm lucky she hath kept quiet
, as it is."
"She lives still at your country-house?"
"Ay; where else to lodge her? Rotten as it is, it does for that; andthat is the only use it hath done me this many a year. There's a cow ortwo for her maintaining, and some hens. And for company, there's oldJeremy that's half-blind. He can quiet her fears o' nights, when thetimbers creak and she thinks it is a ghost walking."
"And what of the house when you are away on the voyage?"
"Troth, all may out then, I care not! Let 'em sell the estate for thedebts on it; they'll find themselves losers, I trow. And Mistress Megwill be left in the lurch, poor white-face! As for me, when the shipsails, I shall be quit of that plague."
"Ay, but you'll be quit of this goldsmith's wench, too. Will your 'onesweet hour' or so suffice, think you?"
The faintest smile came into Jerningham's face.
"I will not prophesy," said he, softly. "But, as you well know, when wecome to that island, if all goes well, I shall be in some sort a kingthere."
"Certainly; but what of that, touching this wench?"
"Why, will not the island have room for a queen as well?"
"Oho!" quoth Ermsby, after a short silence. "So the wind blows that wayin thy dreams!"
Presently they landed at Paul's Wharf, climbed to Thames Street, whichwas noisy with carts and drays, and went on up a narrow thoroughfaretoward the great church.