CHAPTER EIGHT.
A STORM AT SEA.
The shades of evening had settled down over the great City, the onlylights being those of the lanterns of the costermongers' stallsscattered up and down in various directions, and the occasional glare ofa link, as the citizens went to and fro from each other's houses.Another knock was heard at Master Gresham's door.
"A stranger desires to see you, sir," said the porter. "He declinesgiving his name, but he says you know him, and will, he is sure, greethim kindly."
"What is he like?" asked Master Gresham. "I cannot admit strangers.Beg him to write his name on this tablet; but do not tell him that I amwithin till I hear who he is."
This caution, as may be supposed, was not unnecessary in those dangeroustimes; for though Master Gresham had had the assurance of Sir John Leighthat he need no longer apprehend danger, he yet knew the treachery ofwhich Bishop Gardiner was capable, and that, did he wish to get rid ofhim, he would not hesitate to do so, in spite of the support he might bereceiving from other friends. The tablet was soon brought back.
"Admit him--admit him instantly," said Master Gresham, as soon as he sawthe name; and, rising from his seat as the stranger entered, hestretched forth both his hands.
"My dear friend, Master John Foxe, I greet you heartily," he said,leading him to a chair. "My wife, here is one whom I have known from myyouth upwards--a true and bold champion of the faith. And what is yourpleasure, Master Foxe? it would be mine to aid you if I had the power."
"In troth, Master Gresham, it is to advise me how I can best leave thisfair kingdom of England, and to help me in so doing," answered thevisitor. "I had hoped that a humble man like me might have escapedpersecution, but I have received notice that if I remain my life willhave to pay the penalty; so I am about to put the seas between myselfand our sovereign Lady and her fire-loving Bishop; for although I amready to burn, if called on to witness to the faith, yet I see no reasonwhy I should not fly from danger, if by so doing I may live to bear afaithful testimony in after years."
"You speak wisely, Master Foxe," said Master Gresham. "Even now I amabout to start for the Netherlands; and we will bear each other company.The wind holds from the north, and I propose therefore taking ship fromIpswich. We may thus speedily reach a port in Flanders, whence we cantravel on to Antwerp. You may there for a time as a foreigner be safefrom persecution under my protection, unless you take to public teachingand preaching. In that case I should be unable to protect you."
"Thank thee, my friend," answered Master Foxe. "I look to One forprotection from man's malice more powerful than man himself; but while Iam in your company I will follow your wishes, albeit it is hard whenoccasion offers not to speak to our fellow-men of God's love and mercyto man as shown in His Gospel. I would ask you to afford yourprotection, not only to me, but to my wife and children; for I would notleave them behind, lest they also become exposed to the malice of thosewho hate the truth."
Master Foxe had wisely sent his family on a day's stage beyond London,having been greatly assisted by his friend the Duke of Norfolk. He hadrendered him all the aid in his power, and supplied all the articles forhis voyage.
Master Gresham and his company set forth the next morning at an earlyhour. They journeyed as usual on horseback, without making more showthan needful, each man, however, being well-armed with sword andarquebuse, so that, should they be attacked by robbers, they mightdefend themselves. No robbers appeared, but soon after they left Londontwo persons, on sleek, well-fed steeds, were seen riding at a distancebehind them. They wore long cloaks; their features concealed greatly bytheir wide-topped hats and the coifs they wore beneath. When thetravellers stopped these men stopped also, and when they reached ahostel the strangers took up their abode in the same, keeping at thefarther end of the table, where they, however, might hear what wasspoken by the guests. At other times no notice might have been taken ofthem, but after the warning Master Foxe had received, he naturally beganto suspect that they had some object in view which might interfere withhis liberty. He therefore, like a wise man, kept his tongue mostlysilent when they were within hearing. The matter might have remained indoubt, but Ernst, on one occasion slipping round where they sat talking,so it seemed, earnestly to one another, had the means of observing thecountenance of one of them. Coming back, he whispered into the ear ofthe Lady Anne, "I thought so from the first: it is Father Overton, thevery priest who brought the accusation against me and A'Dale. He is oneof Bishop Bonner's runners, that is clear. His presence bodes us nogood. It is well to know our enemies, to escape their malice, though weshould wish to do them no harm."
"You have acted wisely, Ernst; keep silence, and do not stray from us,though I suspect that the object of the priest in following us is to tryand lay hold of Master Foxe. He would prove more valuable game than youare, my boy."
Ernst said he would warn Master Foxe, and did so. The preacher thankedhim.
"I thought as much," he said; "but One mighty to save watches over us.We will go on fearlessly, trusting to Him."
Ernst trembled at the thought of again getting into the power of thepriest, and kept carefully with his friends, lest by any chance he mightbe carried off.
The next day the priest and his companion were seen following as before,not knowing, perchance, that their character had been discovered.Master Gresham showed no little discomfort at seeing them; still, toavoid them was impossible. He and his companions therefore travelled onsteadily, trying to heed them as little as possible, and saying nothingwhich might give them an excuse for arresting any of the party.
Master Gresham had already sent on to secure a vessel, which was inreadiness for their reception on their arrival. They were not alone,however, for several other persons who had become conspicuous for theirProtestant principles during the reign of King Edward had eitherreceived warning that their lives were in danger, or, knowing themselvesto have acted often in opposition to the principles of the new Queen,had thought it wise to escape from her anger. Thus, a very large numberwere collected on board the galley. Ere the sails were hoisted, MasterFoxe summoned them together, and entreated them to join him in prayer toGod that they might escape from the malice of their enemies, and find ahome whither they were going, where they could worship Him in spirit andin truth. They failed not also to speak of their gratitude at havingescaped from the danger which threatened them.
Then the seamen came on board, the heavy anchor was hove up, and thevessel stood away from the shore. The weather, however, wasthreatening; dark clouds flew rapidly across the sky. The wind, blowingstrong, was increasing. The danger to be found at sea was great; yetthe passengers entreated the captain to continue the voyage--theydreaded having again to land. Already some of their friends had beenseized and cast into prison; they knew that such might be their fateshould they remain on shore.
The arrival of the priest at Ipswich, even though he was disguised, hadbecome known, and it was suspected that his object was no good one. Theshores of England were rapidly fading from view, but the wind continuedto increase. The waves rose high on either side of the vessel, tippedwith foam, and threatening every moment to break down over her deck;still she struggled on. The seamen made all secure, and prayed thepassengers to go below. Ernst, however, continued on deck, holdingfirmly to the shrouds. There was another person near him who stood up,securing himself in the same way: it was Master Foxe. Although the windhowled in the rigging, the waves roared round on either side, and thespray came dashing in thick showers over them; although the sky wasdark, and the waters around were troubled, the countenance of thepreacher was calm and undismayed. He gazed on the shores of England; itwas his native land, and he loved it well. Now he looked up at thethreatening sky, and along over the dark, foam-topped seas. He wasgoing forth an exile, perchance never to return, and yet he felt thatrather would he trust the threatening ocean than the tender mercies ofthose who now had sway in England.
The captain came to him at len
gth.
"You seem, good sir, a leading man among my passengers," he observed."I fear me much, that if we attempt to continue the voyage, my stoutship may be overwhelmed, and we may together go with her to the bottomof the ocean. I fear me, therefore, that we must return, and wait tillthe gale has subsided."
"I would pray you to continue on the voyage," answered Master Foxe."Let us trust to Him who rules the waves and winds. He will not allowus to perish."
"But we must trust to our own right judgment, sir," answered thecaptain. "Now, as a seaman, I know that the peril of proceeding is veryfearful indeed, and therefore I opine that we should not tempt God byexposing ourselves to it."
"You speak justly, captain," answered Master Foxe. "As a good seaman,knowing the danger, you are right not to expose those under your chargeto it. Still, I for one would rather trust myself into the hands ofGod, during such a gale as this, than run back and put ourselves intothe power of such persons as now rule our fair land of England."
"You speak too truly," answered the captain. "We will hold on yet alittle longer; but should the gale continue, we must, to save the vesseland our lives, put back to shore; as an honest man I cannot actotherwise."
Not many minutes had passed, when a furious blast struck the vessel.Over she heeled, the waters rushing in on one side, and seeming about tooverwhelm her.
"Hold on for your lives!" shouted the captain. "Put up the helm! easeaway the after sheets!"
Slowly the vessel came round, and ran before the blast. Before she hadbeen struggling with the seas, but now she fled before them, though eventhen they hissed and bubbled up on either side, as if eager to hold herin their grasp. On, on she flew, faster and faster. Once more theshores of England appeared in sight. Anxiously the captain and his matelooked out to try and distinguish the landmarks, that they might steerthe vessel so as to arrive at the entrance of the port of Harwich. Theshades of evening were, however, coming on, a mist hung over the land,so as to render objects scarcely discernible. The passengers had begunto gather on deck; for, feeling the movement of the vessel more easy,they believed that the storm had abated, and that they were again insafety. Various were their exclamations when they found the sea ragingas furiously as ever, and the dark clouds hanging over their heads.
Among those who had come on deck was Master Gresham. He held littleRichard by the hand. Too often had he crossed the Channel to besurprised at what he saw, and yet perhaps he, more than any one elsebesides the captain, knew the dangerous position of the vessel.
Calmly he consulted with him as to the best course to pursue. Anotherperson also stood calm and collected as Master Gresham: it was theminister, Master Foxe. Ernst watched him with admiration, as evenamidst the roughest tossings of the ship a smile of confidence playedover his features. And yet as the vessel rose on the summit of a sea,and then rushed down again into the hollow, the waters hissing andfoaming high above her bulwarks, it seemed indeed as if she would neverrise again, but must sink down, down, till she reached the depths of theocean. At this time many gave way, unable to refrain from showing theirfear by loud cries. Yet then the voice and look of Master Foxe wouldreassure them. "Fear not, my friends," he exclaimed; "if ye areChrist's, if ye have not only turned away from the idolatries of Rome,but have given your hearts to Him, you are safe in His keeping. Dreadnothing therefore: He will, if He thinks fit, take you safely to land,or if not, will call you to Himself, to be with Him where He is. Now isthe time to show your trust in the loving Saviour, all-powerful to saveyou from temporal death as from death eternal."
Thus the faithful minister continued speaking, till all who heard himfelt their faith and courage revive, and no longer did any give way toexpressions of fear. Still the danger continued to increase. In vainthe captain endeavoured to pierce the thick gloom. No land could hediscern; no beacon-fire burst forth to show of a friendly harbour. LadyAnne remained below, and thither Master Gresham conveyed little Richard.
"Should there be danger of the vessel striking, I will come for you," hesaid: "wife, I will save you or perish with you. Ernst, to your chargewe commend our boy; you are a brave swimmer, and may be able to rescuehim."
"Oh! my dear lord, do rather try and save our boy; leave me to my fate,if the fearful danger you speak of arrives!" exclaimed Lady Anne.
To this Master Gresham would not consent.
"No," he said, "I cannot let you, my wife, perish; and our boy is assafe in the keeping of Ernst as he would be in mine. I know that hewill save the boy, or lose his own life in the attempt."
Ernst felt very proud on hearing these remarks, and gladly promised towatch over his friend Richard.
Onward rushed the vessel. At length it seemed to those who stood ondeck that the wind did not blow so furiously as before. A short timepassed, and it became evident that the gale was abating. Still, thosewho were acquainted with the dangers of the sea knew full well that,should the vessel be cast on the beach, how great would be the peril oftheir lives. The hardy seamen were at their posts. The captain orderedall to keep silence. One of the mates went forward, looking out for theland. The captain stood near the helmsman. In a clear voice he issuedhis orders. The sea as well as the wind had decreased. Now the sailswere taken in one by one.
"Stand by with the anchor," cried the captain. "Let go!"
A plunge was heard, and the hempen cable flew quickly out. The vesselrode head to wind with her stern to the shore, not perceived by any butthe seamen, so hardly could a landsman's eye pierce the thick gloomaround. Still she plunged heavily into the seas which rolled towardsit. Now and then the captain shouted to his mates--"Does she hold?"
The answer was satisfactory. Yet it seemed scarcely possible that ironanchor and hempen cable could prevent a ship forced by those furiousbillows from driving onward to the shore. Thus the night passed away.No stars were seen; no moon to cheer the voyagers. Anxiously theywaited for the dawn. It came at last. Then, for the first time, theysaw the shore stretching out for some distance in the west--a long line,on which the raging breakers burst furiously without a break. Once morethe anchor was lifted, the sails were set, and the vessel stood closerin.
A small creek appeared, into which the captain thought the boat couldrun. Only a few, however, could be carried at a time. The boat waslowered into the water, but not without difficulty could the passengersbe placed within it. The women and children were first lowered, and allentreated that Master Foxe would accompany them. He was unwilling,however, to quit the vessel; and not till warmly pressed by all roundhim would he consent, believing that it might be for the common good.
Ernst remained with his patron. Anxiously they watched the boat whichcontained the Lady Anne and little Richard. Away it went, urged on bythe sturdy arms of the bold seamen. One of the mates, an experiencedmariner, steered the boat. Now she sank into the hollow of the sea, nowshe was seen rising to the summit of the wave, the foam dancing roundher. Once more she was hid from sight. Now she rose again. Thus sheproceeded onward. As may be supposed, Master Foxe employed all hispowers to cheer and comfort those with him, for often it seemed to them,as they saw the dark seas rushing after them, that their frail boatwould be overwhelmed; or when they looked towards the shore, and beheldthe white curling waves, they thought it impossible she could ever passthrough them in safety. Thus the boat rushed on. Now she rose on thesummit of a sea. The sturdy mate stood up to gaze around him. Firmlyhe grasped the tiller. Sinking down again, the boat glided into thevery mouth of the little river, and arriving at a steep bank the mateurged his passengers to land speedily, that he might return to bringtheir companions to the shore. He had to make two other trips. MasterGresham and Ernst were the last to leave the ship, the captainpromising, should he be able to weather out the gale, to return forthem. They also safely reached the shore. Not far from where theylanded a bridle road passed by, leading from the south. Master Greshaminstantly set forth with Ernst and others to seek for some farmhousewhere the
party might be accommodated. They had not gone far when twohorsemen were perceived coming along the road. As they drew near, theyand the voyagers exchanged looks, and knew each other, even before theyhad time to utter greetings, had they so desired. In an instant MasterGresham recognised Father Overton, the priest, and his companion, whohad followed them to Ipswich.