Antony Waymouth: or, The Gentlemen Adventurers

It appeared as if both Sir John and Hugh had divined Raymond’s thoughts when he had arrived in the morning at the hall, for they immediately commenced the subject of an adventure to Cathay, and inquired if he had formed any plans for making one. Raymond did not like the tone in which he was addressed, and replied simply that, had such an intention crossed his mind, he had abandoned it. On this the knight looked glum, and Hugh showed an inclination to fume; but no further words then passed.

It was not till the ladies had retired to their chambers that Sir John again opened on the subject. He spoke very explicitly. He was the guardian of his niece Beatrice, and as such had the undoubted disposal of her hand. Love and poverty might do in theory, but were objectionable in practice. He had a great respect for Master Raymond, as he had for Sir Thomas his father, and for all his family, but the interests of his ward must be his first consideration. Now he had discovered, imprimis, that Master Raymond had much less fortune than he had supposed; and, secondly, that his prospects of making a fortune, or of pushing his way in the world, were much smaller than desirable, and that, therefore, he was in duty bound to withhold the consent previously given to his marriage to Beatrice till such times as he could show that he possessed the means in fact, and not only in prospect, of maintaining her as a gentlewoman.

Poor Raymond felt his heart sinking lower and lower while listening to these remarks, till it seemed to have gone out of his bosom altogether. What could he say? He stammered out, at length, that his love would give him strength and courage to achieve any thing mortal man could do, and that he was sure of success. But what sounded a very plausible argument to his ears was so much prunella to those of the old knight.

“I’ll tell thee what, lad: from thine own showing this morning, there is a course open to thee by which thou mayst gain speedily both wealth and honour, and all a gentleman of spirit can desire, and that I take thee to be. Go, think about it on thy couch, and to-morrow I’ll warrant that thou wilt agree that I have given thee sound counsel and advice.”

Edward went to his couch, but not a wink did he sleep. His heart was torn with a variety of conflicting emotions. He could not help owning that there was truth in what Sir John had said, and yet he felt that he had the power to win his way to fortune by honest labour with such a being as Beatrice Willoughby at his side. Hot and feverish, he rose early to take a turn in the park. He had not gone far when he heard footsteps behind him. He turned, and saw Hugh Willoughby following him at a rapid pace. There was a frown on the young man’s brow, and his lips were compressed in a way which showed that he was in no good humour.

“Well met, this fine morning,” he exclaimed in an angry tone. “I must have a word or two with you, Master Edward Raymond. It seems, sir, that you have been deceiving us – leading us to suppose that your fortune is far greater than it turns out to be. I’ll tell you, sir, that my sister shall never wed a beggar while I have a sword with which to run that beggar through the body who dares to wish it.” Edward gasped for breath – such bitter, taunting, cruel words, how could he abide them? He had a sword by his side, but nothing should make him draw it on the brother of his Beatrice. He took two or three turns up and down on the greensward.

“Hugh,” he exclaimed, “you wrong me cruelly. Your uncle knows more of the state of my affairs than I do myself. My earnest desire has been to obtain a fortune to support your sister as becomes her. But two days ago the offer was made me to undertake such an expedition as that proposed by your uncle. Not your taunts, not your threats, not your anger, shall compel me to go; but I believe that I shall be doing right in going. On one condition I will consent – that no force or restraint be put on your sister’s inclinations. If she cares no longer for me, let her marry whom she will; but if she remains faithful to me – as I know right well she will, and as I shall to her – then I have your word, that, on my return with the wealth I may have won, I may claim her as my bride.”

“Fairly and right nobly spoken,” exclaimed Hugh, who, though hot-tempered, was of a generous disposition, and had been worked up to act as he had done by his uncle. “Agreed – agreed; I’ll tell Beatrice what you have said, and, no doubt, she will see its wisdom.”

In more friendly intercourse than from their first meeting might have been expected, the two young men continued their walk, and returned to such a breakfast as is seldom, in these degenerate days, seen on the table.

Sorely against her judgment and inclination, Beatrice yielded to her uncle’s demands. Deep was her sorrow at parting from Edward, and reiterated were their mutual vows of constancy; not that either had the slightest doubt of each other’s devoted love. It was more for the sake of influencing others than themselves that vows were exchanged – that they might say, “We have vowed; we cannot break our vows.”

Edward had to return home to make his preparations. The old knight, his father, heard of this his sudden resolve with a sorrowing heart. His own health had given way sadly of late. He knew that the change which no mortal can avoid must soon come upon him, and should his well-loved son go away, even for a few years, he could scarcely hope that his eyes would rest on him again on this side the grave. He was fully aware, too, of the perils, great and innumerable, to which he must inevitably be exposed. Still, though gentle and loving, he was stout of heart; peril had never daunted him. If his son desired to go on this adventure, he would not withhold his consent. Lady Raymond was no more; but there was another member of his family, to part from whom cost Edward a severe pang – his lovely sister Constance. She was not only lovely, graceful, and good, but full of animation and spirit, combined with a calm courage and determination which, when difficulties came in her way, made her take pleasure in overcoming them. Few who observed her gentle and quiet demeanour would have supposed her likely to perform the deeds of devotion and courage of which she was capable.

“I wish that I were a man, that I, too, might take part in so gallant an enterprise, and win for myself such a bride as is your Beatrice,” she exclaimed when her brother told her of his purpose; but she added, “and yet, dear Edward, it grieves me sorely to part with you. I would go myself, and yet I would not have you go; and yet, again, I cannot say you nay. Go, go! It must be so, I see, and I will join my prayers with those I know your sweet Beatrice will offer up night and day for your safe return.”

“The die is cast,” said Edward with a sigh, and he wrote to Waymouth to say he would join him. In the course of four days he set forth from Exeter, with a couple of packhorses to carry his worldly goods, and a serving-man, equipped for his projected voyage to the far East.

Chapter Two

A goodly fleet of stout ships, with bulging sails, and gayly-coloured banners and streamers flying, sailed down Plymouth Sound before a favouring breeze, which promised to waft them along steadily towards the sunny latitudes of the tropics. There sailed the Red Dragon, of full three hundred tons and forty pieces of ordnance – the admiral’s ship; and there was the Serpent, of not less than two hundred and fifty tons – the vice-admiral’s ship; and the Lion, of not much less tonnage and armament than the Serpent; there was the Lion’s Whelp, a tall ship, and two pinnaces, the Sunshine and Moonshine, the larger ships carrying each from one hundred to one hundred and thirty men, and the pinnaces thirty men each; and as for arms, besides great guns, they were amply provided with culverins, sakers, falconets, and murtherers, the latter unpleasantly-named pieces being similar to blunderbusses on swivels, and loaded with small shot, and scraps of iron, lead, or stones. No little squadron in those days could have been more amply equipped, provisioned, and found in every way, or better manned or commanded.

It must be remarked that the pictorial representations of ships of those days give us a very erroneous notion of what ships really were. Ships capable of performing long voyages in tempestuous seas, and ships on tapestry – worked by fair fingers, which, however ably they might have plied their needles, were scarcely capable of delineating accurately those wonderful constructions on which the eyes of the workers had probably never rested – are very different from each other. The ships now described sailing down Plymouth Sound were strongly-built craft, with bows not over-bluff and sides not over-high. They had erections on deck, both at the bows and stern, rising some five feet above it, or a little more, perhaps, on the top of which men could stand for fighting or working some of the sheets and braces of the lighter sails, while the halyards and other chief ropes lead to the main deck. In these said erections, or castles, as they were called, still to be seen in most foreign and many English merchantmen, somewhat modified and in more pacific guise, there were port-holes, with guns projecting from them both at the sides and outer ends, and also along the deck. Thus an enemy having gained the deck would be exposed to a hot fire from the defenders under shelter of the wooden walls of the two castles. On the fore and main mast the sails were square, and there were also staysails fore and aft. On the mizzen-mast there was a large lateen yard and sail, such as is still seen in the Mediterranean. It was a useful and powerful sail for plying to windward, gaff-sails not having then been invented. The tops were circular, and heavier than would now be approved of, but certainly not the heavy constructions they are represented in pictures. The holds of those vessels were very capacious, and the cabins were fitted not without regard to comfort and luxury, and were often richly ornamented.

Such was the squadron to which the Lion belonged, and on board the Lion sailed Antony Waymouth as master’s mate or chief officer under the captain, and his friend Edward Raymond, to whom was awarded the office of cosmographer, he being at the same time an adventurer of some three hundred pounds. Of the Lion an honourable gentleman, John Wood, was captain, and Master James Walker, a truly worthy man, and pious withal, the minister. Captain Lancaster, a man of renown and valour, was the admiral and general; and Nicholas Parker, captain of the Serpent, the vice-admiral. Of the rest of the officers and gentlemen adventurers it is not necessary here to speak. That they were not a godless or a lawless company, intent only on plunder, may be proved by the following rules and articles set down for their guidance:

“The usual service appointed by the Church of England to be said twice a day. Due reverence to be given to the ministers. Not to suffer swearing, dicing, card-playing, or other vain talk. Conspiring against the life of the general or any other in authority to be punished by death. To follow the admiral day and night and no man to be so bold as to go before him. To speak with him every morning and night. Not to be more than an English mile from him. Signals: Not to give chase without the admiral’s orders. Watchwords: ‘if God be with us;’ answer, ‘Who shall be against us?’ If an enemy be encountered, rather to be on the defensive than the offensive.”

Waymouth showed these articles to Raymond, observing – “You see, Ned, we seamen are not, the godless reprobates some who grow rich upon our toil and danger would wish to make it appear. Where would you find a more humble Christian man than good Master Walker, our minister? and surely the example he and the other chaplains of the fleet set is not without its due influence among the crews.”

Waymouth spoke the truth. It was not till many years after this that the character of the British seaman changed very much for the worse. No chaplains were then sent to sea; religion was ignored, and, as a consequence, the mass of seamen became godless, swearing, vicious reprobates, little better than heathens in their religion or morality. On board Captain Lancaster’s fleet, however, order was well maintained, and the ministers setting a good example, religion flourished more than among most communities on shore.

All honour be to our sea-going ancestors! They were brave, sincere, zealous, and energetic men; black was black with them, and white white. They had, it must be owned, some queer notions as to right and wrong, and honest traders on the north of the line seemed to consider themselves justified in acting the part of pirates to the south of it. Like the Arabs of the desert, their hand was against every man, and every man’s hand against them. In the East, Spaniards, Portugals, Hollanders, and English were at ceaseless war with each other; or when the Hollanders pretended to side with the latter, it was simply for the purpose of betraying them and injuring their commerce in those parts.

As Raymond stood on the aftercastle of the Lion, watching the fast-receding shores of Old England, his spirit sank within him. He was thinking – and shame, to him if he was not – of Beatrice. Not for a moment did he doubt her love and constancy; but he thought of the dangers to which she might be exposed should troublous times again arise – of her grief should he not be destined to return. He had others, also, whom he loved at home; his widowed mother, his brothers, and, above all, his sister Constance, the dear friend of his Beatrice, unlike her in appearance, for Constance was a dark-eyed, dark-haired beauty, full of life and animation, but like her in goodness and sense, and the sweetness of her disposition. Hugh Willoughby affected her, but it was evidently with a mere boyish admiration, and she regarded him in no other light than as her friend’s brother.

Edward’s reveries were broken in on by Waymouth, who sprang up on the deck of the aftercastle and clapped him, as was his wont, on the shoulder, exclaiming —

“What! disconsolate, Ned? Turn thee about, lad; the old country will not move till we come back, depend on that. Look ahead! that’s the way we seamen set our eyes. Even now the admiral has made a signal that several sail are in sight under all canvas, steering for the south. Spaniards or Portugals I hope they may prove, and if so, and we come up with them, thou’lt have the satisfaction of enjoying a sea fight before we’ve been forty-eight hours on the salt ocean.”

Edward’s attention was instantly aroused. Nothing in the then state of his feelings he would so much enjoy as a battle. Not that he had seen one, nor had he pictured its horrors very clearly to himself. Had he, possibly he would not have been so anxious for it. The hope of booty animated the ship’s company generally, though some declared that it was the desire to destroy Papists, the born enemies of England, at which their minister, Master Walker, severely rebuked them, telling them that it was filthy lucre, and that alone, they desired, and that the sword was not the weapon to win men over to the truth, or to use against men who held not the truth.

“The sword repelleth friends,” he continued. “Kind words and gentle usage attract those who have been our foes. Such are the weapons Protestants should use against their Papist adversaries.”

Master Walker’s plain speaking and honest dealing with those over whose spiritual welfare he had the charge made him generally beloved, though a few bad tempers disliked him. To Waymouth and Raymond he was a sincere and warm friend, as he was in truth, as far as they would let him, to all who sailed on board the fleet. The chase continued; but the strangers, whatever their nation, were fleet craft. So far they had been gained on as to be seen from the tops of the Lion. Though outnumbering the English, they continued their flight; southward they sailed, and southward after them sailed their pursuers. The Spaniards had received so many severe lessons of late that they had learned to consider discretion the best part of valour. Henceforth their history was to show a retrogressive movement. Their black injustice and horrible cruelties to the natives of Mexico and Peru were to meet with just retribution. The cries of thousands ascending from their inquisitorial prisons were not unheard. National sins were to meet with national punishment. They had been tried in the balance, and found wanting. So it has gone on. The land of Spain, bountifully blessed by Nature, still holds a people grovelling in the dust of ignorance and superstition. At that time it is difficult to overstate, though not to believe, the utter detestation in which the Spaniards were held by all true-hearted Englishmen, and in which the Portugals over whom they held sway had to share. The chase continued till night hid the strangers from the sharp eyes of the men on the lookout at the mast-heads. In vain were they looked for the next morning.

“Never mind,” said Waymouth as he walked the deck; “the world is round: Sir Francis Drake has proved it so. We’ll come up with them in the course of the circle.”

The belief that the enemy were ahead urged the bold mariners to carry sail night and day, so that their run to the south was unusually rapid. Raymond devoted himself to the study of navigation and to practising the use of such nautical instruments as were then invented; nor did he neglect to gain a knowledge of the object of the ropes and sails, and the mode of dealing with a ship under various circumstances, so that Waymouth soon pronounced him an accomplished seaman. There occurred but one event worth narrating for some time. Sixteen sail were seen approaching, and the fleet got ready for action. The strangers, however, turned out to be Hamburg hulks from Lisbon; but the obstinate Hollanders refused to strike to the English flag – a piece of folly not to be borne – so they were fired into and compelled to heave to. Boats were then sent on board, and such articles as were likely to prove useful were taken out of them, it being evident that they were loaded with Spanish property. They were then charitably allowed to proceed on their voyage. We will not describe the mummeries and other ceremonies which took place on crossing the line, introduced by some Genoese seamen on board, such as they said their countrymen were wont to indulge in formerly on passing through the “Gut of Gibbelterra,” and now of late in these same latitudes. It was not much to good Master Walker’s taste, seeing that numerous profane gods and goddesses of the sea were introduced – Hercules and Orion, and Venus and Neptune, and others, Tritons and odd fish of all sorts. Without misadventure the squadron reached Sierra Leone, where the blacks were friendly, and, taking in water and fresh provisions, stood across to the coast of Brazil. Here a brighter lookout than ever was kept, and not without avail, for when about eight leagues from the shore they descried a small Portugal ship, which they chased and took, of about fifty tons’ burden, bound up the River Plate. She had forty-two negroes on board for Peru, and two Portugal women and a child passengers, with some sugar, rice, and sweetmeats. The next day another Portugal ship was captured. Waymouth in his journal remarked, “that the only riches in her besides slaves and friars were beads, pictures, and other spiritual trinkets – furniture designed for the use of a new monastery.”

The pilot of this ship turned out to be an Englishman – one Dick Carter, from Limehouse – who had been so long away from home that he had almost lost all use of his native tongue.

“Why, lad, we have a man aboard – Tom Carter – from the same place,” observed Waymouth, as the man tried in broken accents to narrate his history.

Tom was sent for, and, sure enough, the two proved to be brothers. Dick gladly consented to serve on board the Lion, and informed Waymouth, in gratitude for his kind treatment, that a Spanish squadron of considerable force was daily expected in the Plate. The admiral, however, instead of trying to avoid them, resolved to await their coming, and, entering the river, cast anchor.

“Now, Ned, we shall have our hearts’ desire,” exclaimed Waymouth, as he stopped for a minute near his friend while going round the decks to see that the ship was ready for a fight.

The day was passing away, when, about four o’clock in the afternoon, five sail of large ships and several smaller ones were seen rounding a point in the river. The English, therefore, in warlike manner set their watch, the trumpets sounded, the drums beat, and the admiral opened fire on the approaching enemy, who, however, anchored out of shot, the better to prepare for the expected fight. They were some little time in doing this, and then once more they advanced, it being now nightfall. The wind had dropped, so the Spaniards’ boats towed on their big ships with the intent of boarding the English. Both sides were, meantime, plying their guns and small arms with vigour; the English with the greater success, as their men were more at liberty. The Spanish vice-admiral was seen with two smaller ships bearing down on the Lion; Captain Wood was, therefore, compelled to slip his cable, to prevent them driving athwart his hawse. A breeze springing up, he was able to make sail and lay the galleon alongside, caring little for the smaller ships. Now began a most desperate fight, the bright flashes of the guns making night appear like day; the rattle of the small arms, the roar of the heavy ordnance, the sounding of the trumpets and drums, the shouts and shrieks of combatants, creating a turmoil terrible to novices – and confusing to the senses.

The Lion enjoyed a large share of the fight, everybody being actively engaged, the captain himself firing a musket like the rest. One of the Spanish frigates, coming too near her, received so heavy a storm of shot, that, one penetrating her magazine, with a loud roar she blew up, when her companion sheered off, not wishing to share the same fate. The Lion now turned her whole fury on the galleon, which she kept at a respectful distance. Suddenly the galleon’s fire ceased. The darkness was great; she could nowhere be seen. Captain Wood now stood away to support the admiral and the other ships; they were hard pressed, though fighting valiantly. The Lion soon had an enemy worthy to contend with in a Portugal galleon which had come in with the Spaniards, and now hoped, by attacking a ship partly disabled by a long combat, to come off the conqueror. The English captain, as did his young lieutenant, called on their men to exert themselves to the utmost to fight for the honour of Old England. Raymond supported them bravely, and, though at length wounded in the arm, he refused to leave the deck. Thus the fight continued, Captain Wood making several attempts to board his opponent, which the latter nimbly avoided. The admiral and vice-admiral were all the time hotly engaged. The former was seen to run a large Spaniard aboard, when, after a hot discharge of great guns, flames were observed to burst forth from one ship or the other, and thus they drove by till no longer to be distinguished. The last seen of the Serpent was in chase of some Spaniard, as her tall masts, like some huge monster of the deep, glided by past the Lion. Towards morning the moon disappeared, clouds overspread the sky, the Portugal thought it wise to sheer off, and the brave ship’s company of the Lion waited anxiously for daylight to ascertain the fate of their friends and foes. For fear of the ship being drifted on shore, Captain Wood again anchored.

As soon as the fight was over, Waymouth hastened to look for his friend. He found him below in the hands of the surgeon. Raymond bore the pain bravely. Waymouth congratulated him.

“You’ve had a taste of what a sea fight is like, Ned,” he observed. “Maybe before we get back to Old England we may have to count scores such, for, no doubt, the Portugals and Spaniards, and even the Hollanders, will give us plenty of occasions to prove our valour.”

Raymond replied that he was ready for another fight, and should be willing to meet the foes of England wherever they were to be found.

It appeared probable that he would at once have another opportunity, for, as daylight broke, a large ship was discerned bearing down on them under all sail. She was the Portugal. The Lion’s crew flew to their guns, and as she came near plied her so well with their shot that she was fain to sheer off, and to stand down towards the river’s mouth. As she stood away, an officer of rank – so he seemed by his fine garments and feather in his cap – sprang on the aftercastle, and, shaking his fist, cried out through his trumpet —