CHAPTER XXI.
PRISONERS AND CAPTIVES.
It was the intention of the Spaniards to take the broken andshot-riddled hulk of the _Revenge_ to Spain as their vaunted prize. Andwell might they set glory upon their conquest, for she was the one andonly English ship that had surrendered to them during the whole courseof the war, and in capturing her they had sacrificed four of their ownbest galleons, while sustaining great damage to some fourteen others.Nearly two thousand of their soldiers had been slain in the fight ordrowned in the sea, including two high and mighty hidalgos, Don Louis deSt. John, whom Grenville had vanquished with his own hand, and DonGeorge de Prunaria de Malaga, besides many others of special account.
Their admiral now sent a large company of carpenters, riggers, andswabbers on board of her to repair her leaks, pump out the water thatwas deep in her hold, and clear her of the wreckage that encumbered her;while those who remained alive of her gallant crew were dispersed amongthe Spanish ships as prisoners, although permitted to go ashore uponthe island during the daytime under close surveillance of a guard ofarmed soldiers.
Don Alonzo de Bassan's fleet lay in the roadstead of Terceira awaitingthe daily expected arrival of the West India treasure-ships, whichappeared in straggling numbers day by day. The Lord Thomas Howard'ssquadron, which had set out to lay capture to them, appeared not again,but having left the _Revenge_ to her fate at the opening of the battle,departed for England. Some accused him of cowardice in avoiding anengagement; but 'tis certain enough that he knew the risks that wereentailed, and if the truth must be set down, Sir Richard Grenville hadreally been guilty of disobedience.
While Gilbert and Timothy were still prisoners on board the _St. Paul_they were quartered in a little cabin under the poop. With them wasAmbrose Pennington, and in another cabin were Roland Grenville andCaptain Robinson. Jacob Hartop had remained on board the _Revenge_ withEdward Webbe, refusing to quit her while she floated.
On a certain day, ere yet the combined fleets from Spain and the WestIndies were ready to depart for Spain, Philip Oglander lay on his bedunder pretence of being wounded, albeit his wounds were no more seriousthan a cut upon his knuckles and a dark-blue bruise upon the back of hisright hand, where the pistol flung by Red Bob had struck him. It wasnot so much these hurts that kept him abed as the eager desire whichwas consuming him to hear what was going on in the cabin next to hisown. It was the cabin occupied by his cousin Gilbert and TimothyTrollope. Philip did not dare to speak openly with his cousin andquestion him concerning what knowledge he might have of the things thathad been going forward at Modbury Manor, but he was aware that Gilbertknew more than himself, for he had once seen Gilbert reading aletter--Drusilla's letter,--and also he had on occasion heard TimothyTrollope--whether in jest or in earnest--address Gilbert as "my lord".
Now Philip had himself received more than one letter from England. Forhis father, well knowing the traitorous business which occupied Philipin Spain, and knowing where a letter might find him, had written to himinforming him of the death of Lord Champernoun, and bidding him rememberthat he, Philip, might one day inherit the title and estates, and that,therefore, it was incumbent upon him to look well to his personalsafety.
"Indeed," wrote Jasper, "there is but one thing now standing betweenthee and this great heritage, and that is thy cousin, Master GilbertOglander. There is naught that I wish for more heartily than to hear ofthe young Jackanapes' death. Therefore I do conjure thee, my son, ifthou shouldst by chance encounter him, prithee do thy work with moresurety than thou didst do it in Beddington Dingle. Let there be nobungling, but bear thee well in mind that upon thy well-directed arrowshaft, or rapier point, must depend thy future and the possibility ofdubbing thyself Baron Champernoun."
These were vague hints. But Philip had understood them. He hadunderstood them to mean that his father urged him to seek out GilbertOglander and frustrate his return to England. And Philip had sought toobey these injunctions, although hitherto without success. He had triedto compass Gilbert's death during the battle, and, having failed, he yethad hope that some chance would favour him for fulfilling his cherisheddesire. And he furtively watched his cousin, spied upon his everymovement, and endeavoured by every available means to entrap him to hisdeath. But Gilbert, wheresoever he went about the galleon and wheneverhe went ashore, was for ever accompanied by Timothy Trollope, and Philipsaw no advantage in running the risk of a hand-to-hand encounter withthe barber's valiant son.
On this day as he lay in his cabin he listened for every word thatshould pass between Gilbert and his two companions. Much that was saidwas in the form of mere idle remark about the late battle, or abouttheir wounds, or about the death of Sir Richard Grenville. But after awhile there was talk of home, and at length, in answer to some questionof Ambrose Pennington, Gilbert spoke of his uncle Jasper, and thereupontold the whole story of his grandfather's death and of his uncle'sassumption of the title, even as Drusilla had recounted it in herletter.
"Ah!" muttered Philip, overhearing every word. "Then he doth know. ByOur Lady, he doth know all!"
Then, setting his teeth together, he vowed that come what might Gilbertshould never return to England to enjoy his inheritance. And from thatmoment he continued to watch his cousin with increased diligence. It wassome comfort to his wicked soul to know that Gilbert was now a captive,and that as such it was more than probable he would spend many a year tocome in some Spanish prison, as so many Englishmen had done before him.But this was not enough, for there was the chance of an escape fromprison; there was the chance, indeed, that Don Alonzo might liberate hiscaptives to ransom; there were a hundred ways by which Gilbert mightsucceed in returning to his native land. But there was one sure andcertain means of preventing this, and that was that, by fair measures orby foul, Gilbert should be brought to his death, and Philip now resolvedthat this should be. He would not rest content until his cousin laylifeless, ay, as lifeless as brave Sir Richard Grenville, whose body nowlay at the bottom of the sea.
Gilbert was quite oblivious of the secret danger that threatened him,nor did he see aught but pure accident in what befell him on the nextday.
The Spanish admiral did not wish that his ship should be encumbered bya crowd of wounded Englishmen. And on the day before the sailing of hisfleet he ordered that those who were at present on board the _St. Paul_should be removed to the _Revenge_. And it followed accordingly thatboats were put out for this purpose.
Gilbert and Timothy were at the gangway together, and it chanced thatTimothy descended the side-ladder first, scarcely observing that PhilipOglander had crept to Gilbert's side. Timothy was already in the boat,when, on looking up, he saw Gilbert stumble and fall. Fortunately theboat was not close alongside; there was a yard of water between it andthe ship. Gilbert was but a poor swimmer, and when he splashed into thesea he sank deep down. There was a strong current, and when he rose tothe surface he appeared many yards away astern of the boat. Timothyplunged in and swam to him, thinking of sharks, and when he reached himand supported him, he turned to see if the boat were being brought tothe rescue. He heard some orders given in Spanish, which seemed to himto be given in Philip Oglander's voice. Louder still than Philip's wasthe voice of Ambrose Pennington, which could be heard for a longdistance away, crying out to the boatmen to cast off and pull towardsthe two lads, and mingling his commands with volleys of round Englishoaths that would surely have won for him the iron chain of punishmenthad they been heard a few days before on board the _Revenge_. But theSpaniards heeded him not at all, declaring that the boys were butforeign lumber who might well be allowed to drown for all the use theywould be on the galleys.
Pennington appealed to Philip Oglander, saying that it was his owncousin and the head of his family who was in danger. But Philip turnedaway with a derisive laugh, no doubt congratulating himself upon thefact that it was his own foot over which Gilbert had tripped.
From a high part of the galleon's poop where he presently c
limbed hewatched the heads of the two boys as they were carried away in thecurrent. Soon an intervening galleon hid them from his view, and heconsoled himself with the thought that he had very cleverly got rid ofthe one person who, next to his own father, stood between him and thebaronage of Champernoun.
But he had not counted upon Timothy Trollope's powers of swimming. Forsome moments Timothy thought to strike out for the shore, and grippingGilbert with his one arm and bidding him be calm, he manfully breastedthe swelling waves. Swimming to the leeward of one of the galleons hepresently saw an empty boat lying at her side. He swam towards it andgot hold of its gunwale, helping Gilbert to do likewise. Then, whileGilbert held on, Timothy climbed over her stern, and kneeling upon oneof the thwarts hauled his companion on board.
"'Twas Philip Oglander that did it," said he, wringing the water out ofGilbert's ragged clothing. "I saw him put forth his foot and trip thee.I have seen all along that he hath had designs against thee, MasterGilbert--I mean, my lord--"
"Nay, keep to the Gilbert, Tim," interrupted Gilbert. "As to this matterof my falling overboard, well, I can e'en believe as you say,nevertheless we might easily have been in a worse case than we are now.For, look you, there is a ladder up the ship's side at your elbow, andit were easy enough to get on board of her."
"It were equally easy to cut the boat's painter and make for the shore,"said Tim.
"But there be no oars aboard," returned Gilbert.
"Wherefore need we concern ourselves about oars?" asked Timothy. "I willadventure it however it be." And he felt for his knife. A look of suddendespair came into his face. "Alas!" he added, "I had forgotten that theDons had deprived us of our weapons!"
He stepped to the boat's bow, and was about to try to untie the knot ofher painter when a voice greeted him from above, and a Spaniard withvery furious curled moustachios appeared in the opening of the gangway.To escape now with the boat was impossible, and the two boys yieldedthemselves up as prisoners, explaining as best they could the accidentthat had brought them there.
The Spaniards appeared to regard the matter with indolent indifference,saying that the lads should be sent back on board the flag-ship on themorrow. In the meantime Gilbert and Timothy were permitted to sit in thewarm sunlight to dry their clothes on the upper deck, and no more noticewas taken of them until late in the evening, when one of the galleon'sboys gave them each an onion. They slept under the lee of one of the bigguns, and in the morning the same ship's-boy brought them a tin dish ofbean soup, indicating by signs that they were to share it between them.
On the afternoon of that same day some officers from one of the othergalleons came on board, and with them was one Maurice Fitz John, ofDesmond, a forlorn-looking Irish traitor who, because he could speakEnglish, had been sent to speak with the English prisoners in each shipand to persuade them to serve the King of Spain. He had not expected tofind any on board this particular galleon--the _Santa Maria_, as she wasnamed,--but discovering Gilbert and Timothy, he accosted them, believingthem to be very humble seamen. He besought them to take arms in KingPhilip's legion, using very subtle arguments. They would have threetimes the amount of pay that they could get on an English ship, he said,and he promised them such advancement as he thought would tempt anyyoung men who were, as these were, ship-broken and half-starved andill-clothed, and if they would be good Catholics the safety of theirsouls should be assured.
Timothy Trollope noticed that the man was himself but ill-apparelled,and reflected that such beggarly appearance was in itself a sufficientanswer to the argument of rich pay. As for the notion of changing theirreligion, it was as repulsive to both Tim and Gilbert as that ofdeserting their Queen.
"Well, well," said the Irishman, when, having used up all his eloquencein his pleadings, he turned to go, "an ye will not see the advantage ofwhat is offered ye, 'tis no concern of mine. 'Tis yourselves that willsuffer for your obstinacy. But I doubt not that a few years of work atthe oars of His Majesty's galleys will bring ye to better reason." Andwith that he departed.
For many days thereafter Gilbert and Timothy led a very weary,uncomfortable life. In return for their food and such shelter as wasgiven to them, they were made to do much dirty and distasteful work.They were never permitted to go on shore, yet they were free from therestraint of chains--a dispensation for which they were thankful.Gradually their wounds healed, and they regained strength with suchspeed, that when at last the full number of the treasure-ships hadarrived and the fleet was ready to sail for Spain, they were almost aswell in health as they had been on the day before the battle.