CHAPTER V.
A few boats’ lengths from the quay of the corporation of Exeter,in the port of Topsham, on the morning posterior to the date ofthe last chapter, there lay several gallant-looking ships, of noordinary size and burthen.
There were, as has been observed, several of these ships, butonly one of them has immediate reference to our history; and,therefore, it is to her alone, at the present moment, that wehave to direct attention.
She was a large vessel, and, though fitted up for the purposesboth of war and traffic, had evidently been constructed, in thefirst instance, chiefly with a view to making her a sailer. Thiswas not only manifest in the rounding of her bows, which was,considering the practice of the time, rather sharply turned, butalso in a certain slanting in her tall masts, giving her thatlook which, in nautical parlance, is termed “rakish.” Her rigalso, in the main, was adapted to develop her sailing qualities,and was of that hybridous character called “brigantine.” Butalthough her builder had so laboured to make her a fast vessel,she was still roomy, and presented a more extensive interiorthan one would have expected. Her forecastle was lofty, as wasalso her after-deck, or poop, rising a good height above herdeck; and though she was low midships, or in that part of herhull between the forecastle and poop, this showed her dimensionsto disadvantage. There were two brass guns mounted on herforecastle, and two others, of rather a larger bore, on herpoop, which was further defended by a long swivel-gun, peepingout on her stern. With this latter part of the ship, where hislabours finished, the builder had taken considerable pains,having adorned its outline with a border of relievo flowers,enclosing, about the centre of the elevation, an ingeniousrepresentation of three casements. The two outer casements wererepresented to be open, and here the artist had found room toshow his knowledge of details; the ideal aperture of the twocasements, by the introduction of some white paint at the top,in contradistinction to the original ground of black, exhibitingthe mingled effects of light and shade. Immediately beneath thesecasements, in large old English characters, was the ship’s name,thus:--
=_ELIZA_=.
The day had yet hardly opened at the time we mark the positionand general appearance of this goodly ship. Nevertheless, thedeck was not vacant, and sounds arose from below, both fore andaft, that proclaimed the whole crew to be up and stirring. Inthe after part of the ship, in particular, one could distinguishsounds of mirth and festivity, and occasionally there wouldrise from the cabin a shout of laughter, that no human heartcould have heard unmoved. It has been said that the deck was notvacant, and, indeed, it presented, in the fore part of the ship,a very varied picture of human feelings and passions. There mightbe seen, in the faces of the several persons scattered around,the indications of the most conflicting sentiments--the tracesof hope, sorrow, love, eagerness, and expectation. There, amongothers, stood the father, whispering his parting injunctionsto his child; the wife giving her farewell prayers to herhusband; the lover pouring hope into the heart of his sobbingmistress; and the daring, thoughtless, and eager adventurer, freefrom care, and overflowing with buoyancy, caroling some lightlove-song, and looking forward with impatience to a time of periland action.
On the after-deck there were but two persons. One of these, whowore the garb of a common seaman, was on the watch, or, rather,as the ship was not at sea, and so kept no regular watch, stoodas a sort of sentry, to overlook and preserve the general order.The other person was walking to and fro; and was evidently, tojudge from his dress and bearing, of a station superior to anyon the deck. Indeed, he was no other than Master Halyard, thelieutenant, or, as he loved to be called for shortness, MasterBenjamin Halyard, mariner.
In person Master Halyard afforded little ground for remark. Hewas of the middle size, and, though somewhat inclined to be overbroad, well limbed, and fairly proportioned. His countenance,notwithstanding that it was somewhat weather-beaten, wasgood-looking--not only because its individual features were good,but because of the lightness, buoyancy, and goodnature thatwere visible in every line of its general expression. These fewwords are sufficient to give an idea of his appearance; and hischaracter, so far as it need be mentioned here, may be treatedas summarily. Nevertheless, it was not without singularity, ortraits that insured it respect and attention. If his manners wererough, his heart was kind and compassionate; and though he wasslow to plan, he was prompt to act, and never flinched in thehour of peril. Indeed, he always kept in view, for his guidancethrough the vicissitudes of life, a maxim that raised him abovefear, by reminding him that troubles were but of brief duration,and that good and evil alike must ultimately come to an end. Thismaxim he had always at hand, and, whenever occasion served, henever failed to set forth, in his very loudest tone of voice,that “life is but short: let us live well on the road, says thegentle shepherd of Salisbury plain.” The spirit of his maxim heenforced, not only by constantly repeating it, but by the effectof his own example, on every one under his control, although hisgeneral disposition, to borrow a phrase of his own, was “no waysparticular,” and rarely inclined him to interfere with others.
Such was the man who, at the time already specified, walked toand fro on the quarter-deck of the “Eliza,” smoking a short pipeas he passed along. He had, however, taken but two or three turnsof the deck, when the look-out man, coming right in his path,brought him to a stand.
“’Tis four of the clock, master,” said the look-out man.
“Ah, Tom Tarpaulin,” answered the lieutenant, quickly, for itwas necessary to give his orders with promptitude; “life is butshort: let us live well on the road, says the gentle shepherd ofSalisbury plain. Strike eight bells!”
“Ay, ay, Sir!” replied Tarpaulin.
Quick as thought, he skipped up the poop, and ran to a frame ofwood-work, about three feet high, that stood in front of thecompass-box. From this hung a large bell, which he seized roundthe top; and taking up a hammer that lay beneath, he struck onthe inside of the bell eight distinct taps, thereby signifying tothe crew, in the manner they best understood, that it was fouro’clock.
Hardly had the bell given utterance to the eighth stroke, whenHalyard, turning his face towards the forecastle, desired themen forward to give a call for the boatswain. The boatswain,however, being within hearing, forestalled all further calls, andpresented himself on the quarter-deck before any voice had beenraised but the lieutenant’s.
“Ay, ay, Sir!” he cried.
“Pipe all hands to heave up the anchor,” said the lieutenant.
“Ay, ay, Sir!” answered the boatswain.
And while the accents were yet on his lips, he drew forthan earthenware whistle, gaily trimmed with silver, from thewaistband of his canvas trousers, and, raising it to his mouth,made the air ring with its shrill and ear-piercing notes.
All was now bustle throughout the ship. Not only forward, butaft, the summons of the boatswain was obeyed, and four personscame up the hatchway from the chief cabin who wore the garb ofgentlemen. Among these were Hildebrand Clifford, the captain, andhis friend Sir Walter Raleigh; but the others appeared to haveno connection with the ship, and to have come there only as SirWalter’s friends.
Just as they stepped on the deck, the boatswain brought hiswhistle to a close, and replaced the pipe, to call it by itsnautical name, in the band of his trousers.
“All hands heave up the anchor!” he cried.
Pursuant to this order, the crew all hurried to the quarter-deck,where, directly in front of the poop, at an elevation of aboutfive feet from the deck, stood the capstan, by means of whichthe anchor was to be raised. This was quickly rigged with somehalf-dozen levers, about three feet apart, and the sailorsplanted themselves behind the levers, two or three abreast, andwaited the signal to begin.
“Give way, my hearts!” cried Hildebrand, who now took thecommand: “Give way!”
There was no reply to this order, but the sailors, grasping afirmer hold of the several levers, at once obeyed, wheelinggaily round the capstan, and singing with one voice as theyprogresse
d:--
“Yo, ho, yo! merriman, hoy! Yo, ho, hoy! merriman!”
Few of the various by-standers heard their stirring choruswithout emotion. In many of them it raised the most bitter pangof tortured affection--it was the knell of separation--the firstsad note of departure and parting. Still, after a few moments’interval, when the first thrills of affection had subsided, ithad a cheering influence, and many a pale face around wore asmile, which, though tinged with sadness, plainly showed that theheart was full of hope and expectation.
At length, the cable was all hauled in, and the anchor heavedup to the bows, and there, with the aid of a stout chain, madesecure. The goodly bark was at liberty, and all but her gallantcrew were now to quit her deck.
In the gangway, preparing to descend into one of the boats thatwere alongside, stood Sir Walter Raleigh, and his two friends.The two latter had already bidden Hildebrand farewell, but SirWalter, who was the foremost of the three, held him by the handstill.
“I will bear it in mind, worthy Master Clifford,” he said, inan under tone. “Shedlock shall never know from me, or any butthyself, aught that hath passed, though, by my lady’s hand, Icould tear the knave’s heart from his body, if ’twere but to seewhat ’tis made of.”
“Indeed, ’twould be to my disadvantage just now, noble Sir, thathe should know I am thy poor friend,” said Hildebrand.
“It might, it might!” observed Sir Walter. “Have no doubt of mysecresy. Farewell, and God keep thee, my friend!”
“Farewell! farewell!” said Hildebrand.
They shook hands again, and, this done, Sir Walter and hisfriends, without further observation, descended to their boat.All the other strangers had departed before, and none but herproper crew remained on board the “Eliza.”
Once parted from his friends, Hildebrand stepped quicklyacross the deck, and mounted to the poop. Glancing forward,he perceived that the white sails were all loosened, and werebeginning to expand to the wind: the men were scattered ingroups, in different parts of the ship; and every eye, fromMaster Halyard’s downwards, was turned wistfully on him. As heobserved the general attention, Hildebrand doffed his plumed hat,and raised it gaily in the air.
“One cheer for merry England!” he exclaimed.
There was a dead pause for a moment: then the welkin rang with ahearty hurrah!