He dropped back again to the top round of the ladder in a kind of
amazement.  He had never thought of his sweetheart as of so superior a
being, and he was instantly taken with a feeling of diffidence.  But he
had little opportunity for thought.  A low "Hist!" sounded from close by,
and he hastened to descend the ladder.

"Who goes?" he whispered.

"Greensheve," came the reply, in tones similarly guarded.

"What want ye?" asked Dick.

"The house is watched, Master Shelton," returned the outlaw.  "We are not
alone to watch it; for even as I lay on my belly on the wall I saw men
prowling in the dark, and heard them whistle softly one to the other."

"By my sooth," said Dick, "but this is passing strange!  Were they not
men of Sir Daniel's?"

"Nay, sir, that they were not," returned Greensheve; "for if I have eyes
in my head, every man-Jack of them weareth me a white badge in his
bonnet, something chequered with dark."

"White, chequered with dark," repeated Dick.  "Faith, 'tis a badge I know
not.  It is none of this country's badges.  Well, an that be so, let us
slip as quietly forth from this garden as we may; for here we are in an
evil posture for defence.  Beyond all question there are men of Sir
Daniel's in that house, and to be taken between two shots is a
beggarman's position.  Take me this ladder; I must leave it where I found
it."

They returned the ladder to the stable, and groped their way to the place
where they had entered.

Capper had taken Greensheve's position on the cope, and now he leaned
down his hand, and, first one and then the other, pulled them up.

Cautiously and silently, they dropped again upon the other side; nor did
they dare to speak until they had returned to their old ambush in the
gorse.

"Now, John Capper," said Dick, "back with you to Shoreby, even as for
your life.  Bring me instantly what men ye can collect.  Here shall be
the rendezvous; or if the men be scattered and the day be near at hand
before they muster, let the place be something farther back, and by the
entering in of the town.  Greensheve and I lie here to watch.  Speed ye,
John Capper, and the saints aid you to despatch.  And now, Greensheve,"
he continued, as soon as Capper had departed, "let thou and I go round
about the garden in a wide circuit.  I would fain see whether thine eyes
betrayed thee."

Keeping well outwards from the wall, and profiting by every height and
hollow, they passed about two sides, beholding nothing.  On the third
side the garden wall was built close upon the beach, and to preserve the
distance necessary to their purpose, they had to go some way down upon
the sands.  Although the tide was still pretty far out, the surf was so
high, and the sands so flat, that at each breaker a great sheet of froth
and water came careering over the expanse, and Dick and Greensheve made
this part of their inspection wading, now to the ankles, and now as deep
as to the knees, in the salt and icy waters of the German Ocean.

Suddenly, against the comparative whiteness of the garden wall, the
figure of a man was seen, like a faint Chinese shadow, violently
signalling with both arms.  As he dropped again to the earth, another
arose a little farther on and repeated the same performance.  And so,
like a silent watch word, these gesticulations made the round of the
beleaguered garden.

"They keep good watch," Dick whispered.

"Let us back to land, good master," answered Greensheve.  "We stand here
too open; for, look ye, when the seas break heavy and white out there
behind us, they shall see us plainly against the foam."

"Ye speak sooth," returned Dick.  "Ashore with us, right speedily."



CHAPTER II--A SKIRMISH IN THE DARK


Thoroughly drenched and chilled, the two adventurers returned to their
position in the gorse.

"I pray Heaven that Capper make good speed!" said Dick.  "I vow a candle
to St. Mary of Shoreby if he come before the hour!"

"Y' are in a hurry, Master Dick?" asked Greensheve.

"Ay, good fellow," answered Dick; "for in that house lieth my lady, whom
I love, and who should these be that lie about her secretly by night?
Unfriends, for sure!"

"Well," returned Greensheve, "an John come speedily, we shall give a good
account of them.  They are not two score at the outside--I judge so by
the spacing of their sentries--and, taken where they are, lying so
widely, one score would scatter them like sparrows.  And yet, Master
Dick, an she be in Sir Daniel's power already, it will little hurt that
she should change into another's.  Who should these be?"

"I do suspect the Lord of Shoreby," Dick replied.  "When came they?"

"They began to come, Master Dick," said Greensheve, "about the time ye
crossed the wall.  I had not lain there the space of a minute ere I
marked the first of the knaves crawling round the corner."

The last light had been already extinguished in the little house when
they were wading in the wash of the breakers, and it was impossible to
predict at what moment the lurking men about the garden wall might make
their onslaught.  Of two evils, Dick preferred the least.  He preferred
that Joanna should remain under the guardianship of Sir Daniel rather
than pass into the clutches of Lord Shoreby; and his mind was made up, if
the house should be assaulted, to come at once to the relief of the
besieged.

But the time passed, and still there was no movement.  From quarter of an
hour to quarter of an hour the same signal passed about the garden wall,
as if the leader desired to assure himself of the vigilance of his
scattered followers; but in every other particular the neighbourhood of
the little house lay undisturbed.

Presently Dick's reinforcements began to arrive.  The night was not yet
old before nearly a score of men crouched beside him in the gorse.

Separating these into two bodies, he took the command of the smaller
himself, and entrusted the larger to the leadership of Greensheve.

"Now, Kit," said he to this last, "take me your men to the near angle of
the garden wall upon the beach.  Post them strongly, and wait till that
ye hear me falling on upon the other side.  It is those upon the sea
front that I would fain make certain of, for there will be the leader.
The rest will run; even let them.  And now, lads, let no man draw an
arrow; ye will but hurt friends.  Take to the steel, and keep to the
steel; and if we have the uppermost, I promise every man of you a gold
noble when I come to mine estate."

Out of the odd collection of broken men, thieves, murderers, and ruined
peasantry, whom Duckworth had gathered together to serve the purposes of
his revenge, some of the boldest and the most experienced in war had
volunteered to follow Richard Shelton.  The service of watching Sir
Daniel's movements in the town of Shoreby had from the first been irksome
to their temper, and they had of late begun to grumble loudly and
threaten to disperse.  The prospect of a sharp encounter and possible
spoils restored them to good humour, and they joyfully prepared for
battle.

Their long tabards thrown aside, they appeared, some in plain green
jerkins, and some in stout leathern jacks; under their hoods many wore
bonnets strengthened by iron plates; and, for offensive armour, swords,
daggers, a few stout boar-spears, and a dozen of bright bills, put them
in a posture to engage even regular feudal troops.  The bows, quivers,
and tabards were concealed among the gorse, and the two bands set
resolutely forward.

Dick, when he had reached the other side of the house, posted his six men
in a line, about twenty yards from the garden wall, and took position
himself a few paces in front.  Then they all shouted with one voice, and
closed upon the enemy.

These, lying widely scattered, stiff with cold, and taken at unawares,
sprang stupidly to their feet, and stood undecided.  Before they had time
to get their courage about them, or even to form an idea of the number
and mettle of their assailants, a similar shout of onslaught sounded in
their ears from the far side of the enclosure.  Thereupon they gave
themselves up for lost and ran.

In this way the two small troops of the men of the Black Arrow closed
upon the sea front of the garden wall, and took a part of the strangers,
as it were, between two fires; while the whole of the remainder ran for
their lives in different directions, and were soon scattered in the
darkness.

For all that, the fight was but beginning.  Dick's outlaws, although they
had the advantage of the surprise, were still considerably outnumbered by
the men they had surrounded.  The tide had flowed, in the meanwhile; the
beach was narrowed to a strip; and on this wet field, between the surf
and the garden wall, there began, in the darkness, a doubtful, furious,
and deadly contest.

The strangers were well armed; they fell in silence upon their
assailants; and the affray became a series of single combats.  Dick, who
had come first into the mellay, was engaged by three; the first he cut
down at the first blow, but the other two coming upon him, hotly, he was
fain to give ground before their onset.  One of these two was a huge
fellow, almost a giant for stature, and armed with a two-handed sword,
which he brandished like a switch.  Against this opponent, with his reach
of arm and the length and weight of his weapon, Dick and his bill were
quite defenceless; and had the other continued to join vigorously in the
attack, the lad must have indubitably fallen.  This second man, however,
less in stature and slower in his movements, paused for a moment to peer
about him in the darkness, and to give ear to the sounds of the battle.

The giant still pursued his advantage, and still Dick fled before him,
spying for his chance.  Then the huge blade flashed and descended, and
the lad, leaping on one side and running in, slashed sideways and upwards
with his bill.  A roar of agony responded, and, before the wounded man
could raise his formidable weapon, Dick, twice repeating his blow, had
brought him to the ground.

The next moment he was engaged, upon more equal terms, with his second
pursuer.  Here there was no great difference in size, and though the man,
fighting with sword and dagger against a bill, and being wary and quick
of fence, had a certain superiority of arms, Dick more than made it up by
his greater agility on foot.  Neither at first gained any obvious
advantage; but the older man was still insensibly profiting by the ardour
of the younger to lead him where he would; and presently Dick found that
they had crossed the whole width of the beach, and were now fighting
above the knees in the spume and bubble of the breakers.  Here his own
superior activity was rendered useless; he found himself more or less at
the discretion of his foe; yet a little, and he had his back turned upon
his own men, and saw that this adroit and skilful adversary was bent upon
drawing him farther and farther away.

Dick ground his teeth.  He determined to decide the combat instantly; and
when the wash of the next wave had ebbed and left them dry, he rushed in,
caught a blow upon his bill, and leaped right at the throat of his
opponent.  The man went down backwards, with Dick still upon the top of
him; and the next wave, speedily succeeding to the last, buried him below
a rush of water.

While he was still submerged, Dick forced his dagger from his grasp, and
rose to his feet, victorious.

"Yield ye!" he said.  "I give you life."

"I yield me," said the other, getting to his knees.  "Ye fight, like a
young man, ignorantly and foolhardily; but, by the array of the saints,
ye fight bravely!"

Dick turned to the beach.  The combat was still raging doubtfully in the
night; over the hoarse roar of the breakers steel clanged upon steel, and
cries of pain and the shout of battle resounded.

"Lead me to your captain, youth," said the conquered knight.  "It is fit
this butchery should cease."

"Sir," replied Dick, "so far as these brave fellows have a captain, the
poor gentleman who here addresses you is he."

"Call off your dogs, then, and I will bid my villains hold," returned the
other.

There was something noble both in the voice and manner of his late
opponent, and Dick instantly dismissed all fears of treachery.

"Lay down your arms, men!" cried the stranger knight.  "I have yielded
me, upon promise of life."

The tone of the stranger was one of absolute command, and almost
instantly the din and confusion of the mellay ceased.

"Lawless," cried Dick, "are ye safe?"

"Ay," cried Lawless, "safe and hearty."

"Light me the lantern," said Dick.

"Is not Sir Daniel here?" inquired the knight.

"Sir Daniel?" echoed Dick.  "Now, by the rood, I pray not.  It would go
ill with me if he were."

"Ill with _you_, fair sir?" inquired the other.  "Nay, then, if ye be not
of Sir Daniel's party, I profess I comprehend no longer.  Wherefore,
then, fell ye upon mine ambush? in what quarrel, my young and very fiery
friend? to what earthly purpose? and, to make a clear end of questioning,
to what good gentleman have I surrendered?"

But before Dick could answer, a voice spoke in the darkness from close
by.  Dick could see the speaker's black and white badge, and the
respectful salute which he addressed to his superior.

"My lord," said he, "if these gentlemen be unfriends to Sir Daniel, it is
pity, indeed, we should have been at blows with them; but it were tenfold
greater that either they or we should linger here.  The watchers in the
house--unless they be all dead or deaf--have heard our hammering this
quarter-hour agone; instantly they will have signalled to the town; and
unless we be the livelier in our departure, we are like to be taken, both
of us, by a fresh foe."

"Hawksley is in the right," added the lord.  "How please ye, sir?
Whither shall we march?"

"Nay, my lord," said Dick, "go where ye will for me.  I do begin to
suspect we have some ground of friendship, and if, indeed, I began our
acquaintance somewhat ruggedly, I would not churlishly continue.  Let us,
then, separate, my lord, you laying your right hand in mine; and at the
hour and place that ye shall name, let us encounter and agree."

"Y' are too trustful, boy," said the other; "but this time your trust is
not misplaced.  I will meet you at the point of day at St. Bride's Cross.
Come, lads, follow!"

The strangers disappeared from the scene with a rapidity that seemed
suspicious; and, while the outlaws fell to the congenial task of rifling
the dead bodies, Dick made once more the circuit of the garden wall to
examine the front of the house.  In a little upper loophole of the roof
he beheld a light set; and as it would certainly be visible in town from
the back windows of Sir Daniel's mansion, he doubted not that this was
the signal feared by Hawksley, and that ere long the lances of the Knight
of Tunstall would arrive upon the scene.

He put his ear to the ground, and it seemed to him as if he heard a
jarring and hollow noise from townward.  Back to the beach he went
hurrying.  But the work was already done; the last body was disarmed and
stripped to the skin, and four fellows were already wading seaward to
commit it to the mercies of the deep.

A few minutes later, when there debauched out of the nearest lanes of
Shoreby some two score horsemen, hastily arrayed and moving at the gallop
of their steeds, the neighbourhood of the house beside the sea was
entirely silent and deserted.

Meanwhile, Dick and his men had returned to the ale-house of the Goat and
Bagpipes to snatch some hours of sleep before the morning tryst.



CHAPTER III--ST. BRIDE'S CROSS


St. Bride's cross stood a little way back from Shoreby, on the skirts of
Tunstall Forest.  Two roads met: one, from Holywood across the forest;
one, that road from Risingham down which we saw the wrecks of a
Lancastrian army fleeing in disorder.  Here the two joined issue, and
went on together down the hill to Shoreby; and a little back from the
point of junction, the summit of a little knoll was crowned by the
ancient and weather-beaten cross.

Here, then, about seven in the morning, Dick arrived.  It was as cold as
ever; the earth was all grey and silver with the hoarfrost, and the day
began to break in the east with many colours of purple and orange.

Dick set him down upon the lowest step of the cross, wrapped himself well
in his tabard, and looked vigilantly upon all sides.  He had not long to
wait.  Down the road from Holywood a gentleman in very rich and bright
armour, and wearing over that a surcoat of the rarest furs, came pacing
on a splendid charger.  Twenty yards behind him followed a clump of
lances; but these halted as soon as they came in view of the
trysting-place, while the gentleman in the fur surcoat continued to
advance alone.

His visor was raised, and showed a countenance of great command and
dignity, answerable to the richness of his attire and arms.  And it was
with some confusion of manner that Dick arose from the cross and stepped
down the bank to meet his prisoner.

"I thank you, my lord, for your exactitude," he said, louting very low.
"Will it please your lordship to set foot to earth?"

"Are ye here alone, young man?" inquired the other.

"I was not so simple," answered Dick; "and, to be plain with your
lordship, the woods upon either hand of this cross lie full of mine
honest fellows lying on their weapons."

"Y' 'ave done wisely," said the lord.  "It pleaseth me the rather, since
last night ye fought foolhardily, and more like a salvage Saracen lunatic
than any Christian warrior.  But it becomes not me to complain that had
the undermost."

"Ye had the undermost indeed, my lord, since ye so fell," returned Dick;
"but had the waves not holpen me, it was I that should have had the
worst.  Ye were pleased to make me yours with several dagger marks, which
I still carry.  And in fine, my lord, methinks I had all the danger, as
well as all the profit, of that little blind-man's mellay on the beach."

"Y' are shrewd enough to make light of it, I see," returned the stranger.

"Nay, my lord, not shrewd," replied Dick, "in that I shoot at no
advantage to myself.  But when, by the light of this new day, I see how
stout a knight hath yielded, not to my arms alone, but to fortune, and
the darkness, and the surf--and how easily the battle had gone otherwise,
with a soldier so untried and rustic as myself--think it not strange, my
lord, if I feel confounded with my victory."

"Ye speak well," said the stranger.  "Your name?"

"My name, an't like you, is Shelton," answered Dick.

"Men call me the Lord Foxham," added the other.

"Then, my lord, and under your good favour, ye are guardian to the
sweetest maid in England," replied Dick; "and for your ransom, and the
ransom of such as were taken with you on the beach, there will be no
uncertainty of terms.  I pray you, my lord, of your goodwill and charity,
yield me the hand of my mistress, Joan Sedley; and take ye, upon the
other part, your liberty, the liberty of these your followers, and (if ye
will have it) my gratitude and service till I die."

"But are ye not ward to Sir Daniel?  Methought, if y' are Harry Shelton's
son, that I had heard it so reported," said Lord Foxham.

"Will it please you, my lord, to alight?  I would fain tell you fully who
I am, how situate, and why so bold in my demands.  Beseech you, my lord,
take place upon these steps, hear me to a full end, and judge me with
allowance."

And so saying, Dick lent a hand to Lord Foxham to dismount; led him up
the knoll to the cross; installed him in the place where he had himself
been sitting; and standing respectfully before his noble prisoner,
related the story of his fortunes up to the events of the evening before.

Lord Foxham listened gravely, and when Dick had done, "Master Shelton,"
he said, "ye are a most fortunate-unfortunate young gentleman; but what
fortune y' 'ave had, that ye have amply merited; and what unfortune, ye
have noways deserved.  Be of a good cheer; for ye have made a friend who
is devoid neither of power nor favour.  For yourself, although it fits
not for a person of your birth to herd with outlaws, I must own ye are
both brave and honourable; very dangerous in battle, right courteous in
peace; a youth of excellent disposition and brave bearing.  For your
estates, ye will never see them till the world shall change again; so
long as Lancaster hath the strong hand, so long shall Sir Daniel enjoy
them for his own.  For my ward, it is another matter; I had promised her
before to a gentleman, a kinsman of my house, one Hamley; the promise is
old--"

"Ay, my lord, and now Sir Daniel hath promised her to my Lord Shoreby,"
interrupted Dick.  "And his promise, for all it is but young, is still
the likelier to be made good."

"'Tis the plain truth," returned his lordship.  "And considering,
moreover, that I am your prisoner, upon no better composition than my
bare life, and over and above that, that the maiden is unhappily in other
hands, I will so far consent.  Aid me with your good fellows"--

"My lord," cried Dick, "they are these same outlaws that ye blame me for
consorting with."

"Let them be what they will, they can fight," returned Lord Foxham.
"Help me, then; and if between us we regain the maid, upon my knightly
honour, she shall marry you!"

Dick bent his knee before his prisoner; but he, leaping up lightly from
the cross, caught the lad up and embraced him like a son.

"Come," he said, "an y' are to marry Joan, we must be early friends."



CHAPTER IV--THE GOOD HOPE


An hour thereafter, Dick was back at the Goat and Bagpipes, breaking his
fast, and receiving the report of his messengers and sentries.  Duckworth
was still absent from Shoreby; and this was frequently the case, for he
played many parts in the world, shared many different interests, and
conducted many various affairs.  He had founded that fellowship of the
Black Arrow, as a ruined man longing for vengeance and money; and yet
among those who knew him best, he was thought to be the agent and
emissary of the great King-maker of England, Richard, Earl of Warwick.

In his absence, at any rate, it fell upon Richard Shelton to command
affairs in Shoreby; and, as he sat at meat, his mind was full of care,
and his face heavy with consideration.  It had been determined, between
him and the Lord Foxham, to make one bold stroke that evening, and, by
brute force, to set Joanna free.  The obstacles, however, were many; and
as one after another of his scouts arrived, each brought him more
discomfortable news.

Sir Daniel was alarmed by the skirmish of the night before.  He had
increased the garrison of the house in the garden; but not content with
that, he had stationed horsemen in all the neighbouring lanes, so that he
might have instant word of any movement.  Meanwhile, in the court of his
mansion, steeds stood saddled, and the riders, armed at every point,
awaited but the signal to ride.

The adventure of the night appeared more and more difficult of execution,
till suddenly Dick's countenance lightened.

"Lawless!" he cried, "you that were a shipman, can ye steal me a ship?"

"Master Dick," replied Lawless, "if ye would back me, I would agree to
steal York Minster."

Presently after, these two set forth and descended to the harbour.  It
was a considerable basin, lying among sand hills, and surrounded with
patches of down, ancient ruinous lumber, and tumble-down slums of the
town.  Many decked ships and many open boats either lay there at anchor,
or had been drawn up on the beach.  A long duration of bad weather had
driven them from the high seas into the shelter of the port; and the
great trooping of black clouds, and the cold squalls that followed one
another, now with a sprinkling of dry snow, now in a mere swoop of wind,
promised no improvement but rather threatened a more serious storm in the
immediate future.

The seamen, in view of the cold and the wind, had for the most part slunk
ashore, and were now roaring and singing in the shoreside taverns.  Many
of the ships already rode unguarded at their anchors; and as the day wore
on, and the weather offered no appearance of improvement, the number was
continually being augmented.  It was to these deserted ships, and, above
all, to those of them that lay far out, that Lawless directed his
attention; while Dick, seated upon an anchor that was half embedded in
the sand, and giving ear, now to the rude, potent, and boding voices of
the gale, and now to the hoarse singing of the shipmen in a neighbouring
tavern, soon forgot his immediate surroundings and concerns in the
agreeable recollection of Lord Foxham's promise.

He was disturbed by a touch upon his shoulder.  It was Lawless, pointing
to a small ship that lay somewhat by itself, and within but a little of
the harbour mouth, where it heaved regularly and smoothly on the entering
swell.  A pale gleam of winter sunshine fell, at that moment, on the
vessel's deck, relieving her against a bank of scowling cloud; and in
this momentary glitter Dick could see a couple of men hauling the skiff
alongside.

"There, sir," said Lawless, "mark ye it well!  There is the ship for
to-night."

Presently the skiff put out from the vessel's side, and the two men,
keeping her head well to the wind, pulled lustily for shore.  Lawless
turned to a loiterer.

"How call ye her?" he asked, pointing to the little vessel.

"They call her the Good Hope, of Dartmouth," replied the loiterer.  "Her
captain, Arblaster by name.  He pulleth the bow oar in yon skiff."

This was all that Lawless wanted.  Hurriedly thanking the man, he moved
round the shore to a certain sandy creek, for which the skiff was
heading.  There he took up his position, and as soon as they were within
earshot, opened fire on the sailors of the Good Hope.

"What!  Gossip Arblaster!" he cried.  "Why, ye be well met; nay, gossip,
ye be right well met, upon the rood!  And is that the Good Hope?  Ay, I
would know her among ten thousand!--a sweet shear, a sweet boat!  But
marry come up, my gossip, will ye drink?  I have come into mine estate
which doubtless ye remember to have heard on.  I am now rich; I have left
to sail upon the sea; I do sail now, for the most part, upon spiced ale.
Come, fellow; thy hand upon 't!  Come, drink with an old shipfellow!"

Skipper Arblaster, a long-faced, elderly, weather-beaten man, with a
knife hanging about his neck by a plaited cord, and for all the world
like any modern seaman in his gait and bearing, had hung back in obvious
amazement and distrust.  But the name of an estate, and a certain air of
tipsified simplicity and good-fellowship which Lawless very well
affected, combined to conquer his suspicious jealousy; his countenance
relaxed, and he at once extended his open hand and squeezed that of the
outlaw in a formidable grasp.

"Nay," he said, "I cannot mind you.  But what o' that?  I would drink
with any man, gossip, and so would my man Tom.  Man Tom," he added,
addressing his follower, "here is my gossip, whose name I cannot mind,
but no doubt a very good seaman.  Let's go drink with him and his shore
friend."

Lawless led the way, and they were soon seated in an alehouse, which, as
it was very new, and stood in an exposed and solitary station, was less
crowded than those nearer to the centre of the port.  It was but a shed
of timber, much like a blockhouse in the backwoods of to-day, and was
coarsely furnished with a press or two, a number of naked benches, and
boards set upon barrels to play the part of tables.  In the middle, and
besieged by half a hundred violent draughts, a fire of wreck-wood blazed
and vomited thick smoke.

"Ay, now," said Lawless, "here is a shipman's joy--a good fire and a good
stiff cup ashore, with foul weather without and an off-sea gale a-snoring
in the roof!  Here's to the Good Hope!  May she ride easy!"

"Ay," said Skipper Arblaster, "'tis good weather to be ashore in, that is
sooth.  Man Tom, how say ye to that?  Gossip, ye speak well, though I can
never think upon your name; but ye speak very well.  May the Good Hope
ride easy!  Amen!"

"Friend Dickon," resumed Lawless, addressing his commander, "ye have
certain matters on hand, unless I err?  Well, prithee be about them
incontinently.  For here I be with the choice of all good company, two
tough old shipmen; and till that ye return I will go warrant these brave
fellows will bide here and drink me cup for cup.  We are not like
shore-men, we old, tough tarry-Johns!"

"It is well meant," returned the skipper.  "Ye can go, boy; for I will
keep your good friend and my good gossip company till curfew--ay, and by
St. Mary, till the sun get up again!  For, look ye, when a man hath been
long enough at sea, the salt getteth me into the clay upon his bones; and
let him drink a draw-well, he will never be quenched."

Thus encouraged upon all hands, Dick rose, saluted his company, and going
forth again into the gusty afternoon, got him as speedily as he might to
the Goat and Bagpipes.  Thence he sent word to my Lord Foxham that, so
soon as ever the evening closed, they would have a stout boat to keep the
sea in.  And then leading along with him a couple of outlaws who had some
experience of the sea, he returned himself to the harbour and the little
sandy creek.

The skiff of the Good Hope lay among many others, from which it was
easily distinguished by its extreme smallness and fragility.  Indeed,
when Dick and his two men had taken their places, and begun to put forth
out of the creek into the open harbour, the little cockle dipped into the
swell and staggered under every gust of wind, like a thing upon the point
of sinking.

The Good Hope, as we have said, was anchored far out, where the swell was
heaviest.  No other vessel lay nearer than several cables' length; those
that were the nearest were themselves entirely deserted; and as the skiff
approached, a thick flurry of snow and a sudden darkening of the weather
further concealed the movements of the outlaws from all possible espial.
In a trice they had leaped upon the heaving deck, and the skiff was
dancing at the stern.  The Good Hope was captured.

She was a good stout boat, decked in the bows and amidships, but open in
the stern.  She carried one mast, and was rigged between a felucca and a
lugger.  It would seem that Skipper Arblaster had made an excellent
venture, for the hold was full of pieces of French wine; and in the
little cabin, besides the Virgin Mary in the bulkhead which proved the
captain's piety, there were many lockfast chests and cupboards, which
showed him to be rich and careful.

A dog, who was the sole occupant of the vessel, furiously barked and bit
the heels of the boarders; but he was soon kicked into the cabin, and the
door shut upon his just resentment.  A lamp was lit and fixed in the
shrouds to mark the vessel clearly from the shore; one of the wine pieces
in the hold was broached, and a cup of excellent Gascony emptied to the
adventure of the evening; and then, while one of the outlaws began to get
ready his bow and arrows and prepare to hold the ship against all comers,
the other hauled in the skiff and got overboard, where he held on,
waiting for Dick.

"Well, Jack, keep me a good watch," said the young commander, preparing
to follow his subordinate.  "Ye will do right well."

"Why," returned Jack, "I shall do excellent well indeed, so long as we
lie here; but once we put the nose of this poor ship outside the
harbour--See, there she trembles!  Nay, the poor shrew heard the words,
and the heart misgave her in her oak-tree ribs.  But look, Master Dick!
how black the weather gathers!"

The darkness ahead was, indeed, astonishing.  Great billows heaved up out
of the blackness, one after another; and one after another the Good Hope
buoyantly climbed, and giddily plunged upon the further side.  A thin
sprinkle of snow and thin flakes of foam came flying, and powdered the
deck; and the wind harped dismally among the rigging.

"In sooth, it looketh evilly," said Dick.  "But what cheer!  'Tis but a
squall, and presently it will blow over."  But, in spite of his words, he
was depressingly affected by the bleak disorder of the sky and the
wailing and fluting of the wind; and as he got over the side of the Good
Hope and made once more for the landing-creek with the best speed of
oars, he crossed himself devoutly, and recommended to Heaven the lives of
all who should adventure on the sea.

At the landing-creek there had already gathered about a dozen of the
outlaws.  To these the skiff was left, and they were bidden embark
without delay.

A little further up the beach Dick found Lord Foxham hurrying in quest of
him, his face concealed with a dark hood, and his bright armour covered
by a long russet mantle of a poor appearance.

"Young Shelton," he said, "are ye for sea, then, truly?"

"My lord," replied Richard, "they lie about the house with horsemen; it
may not be reached from the land side without alarum; and Sir Daniel once
advertised of our adventure, we can no more carry it to a good end than,
saving your presence, we could ride upon the wind.  Now, in going round
by sea, we do run some peril by the elements; but, what much outweighteth
all, we have a chance to make good our purpose and bear off the maid."

"Well," returned Lord Foxham, "lead on.  I will, in some sort, follow you
for shame's sake; but I own I would I were in bed."

"Here, then," said Dick.  "Hither we go to fetch our pilot."

And he led the way to the rude alehouse where he had given rendezvous to
a portion of his men.  Some of these he found lingering round the door
outside; others had pushed more boldly in, and, choosing places as near
as possible to where they saw their comrade, gathered close about Lawless
and the two shipmen.  These, to judge by the distempered countenance and
cloudy eye, had long since gone beyond the boundaries of moderation; and
as Richard entered, closely followed by Lord Foxham, they were all three
tuning up an old, pitiful sea-ditty, to the chorus of the wailing of the
gale.

The young leader cast a rapid glance about the shed.  The fire had just
been replenished, and gave forth volumes of black smoke, so that it was
difficult to see clearly in the further corners.  It was plain, however,
that the outlaws very largely outnumbered the remainder of the guests.
Satisfied upon this point, in case of any failure in the operation of his
plan, Dick strode up to the table and resumed his place upon the bench.

"Hey?" cried the skipper, tipsily, "who are ye, hey?"

"I want a word with you without, Master Arblaster," returned Dick; "and
here is what we shall talk of."  And he showed him a gold noble in the
glimmer of the firelight.

The shipman's eyes burned, although he still failed to recognise our
hero.

"Ay, boy," he said, "I am with you.  Gossip, I will be back anon.  Drink
fair, gossip;" and, taking Dick's arm to steady his uneven steps, he
walked to the door of the alehouse.

As soon as he was over the threshold, ten strong arms had seized and
bound him; and in two minutes more, with his limbs trussed one to
another, and a good gag in his mouth, he had been tumbled neck and crop
into a neighbouring hay-barn.  Presently, his man Tom, similarly secured,
was tossed beside him, and the pair were left to their uncouth
reflections for the night.

And now, as the time for concealment had gone by, Lord Foxham's followers
were summoned by a preconcerted signal, and the party, boldly taking
possession of as many boats as their numbers required, pulled in a
flotilla for the light in the rigging of the ship.  Long before the last
man had climbed to the deck of the Good Hope, the sound of furious
shouting from the shore showed that a part, at least, of the seamen had
discovered the loss of their skiffs.

But it was now too late, whether for recovery or revenge.  Out of some
forty fighting men now mustered in the stolen ship, eight had been to
sea, and could play the part of mariners.  With the aid of these, a slice
of sail was got upon her.  The cable was cut.  Lawless, vacillating on
his feet, and still shouting the chorus of sea-ballads, took the long
tiller in his hands: and the Good Hope began to flit forward into the
darkness of the night, and to face the great waves beyond the harbour
bar.

Richard took his place beside the weather rigging.  Except for the ship's
own lantern, and for some lights in Shoreby town, that were already
fading to leeward, the whole world of air was as black as in a pit.  Only
from time to time, as the Good Hope swooped dizzily down into the valley
of the rollers, a crest would break--a great cataract of snowy foam would
leap in one instant into being--and, in an instant more, would stream
into the wake and vanish.

Many of the men lay holding on and praying aloud; many more were sick,
and had crept into the bottom, where they sprawled among the cargo.  And
what with the extreme violence of the motion, and the continued drunken
bravado of Lawless, still shouting and singing at the helm, the stoutest
heart on board may have nourished a shrewd misgiving as to the result.

But Lawless, as if guided by an instinct, steered the ship across the
breakers, struck the lee of a great sandbank, where they sailed for
awhile in smooth water, and presently after laid her alongside a rude,
stone pier, where she was hastily made fast, and lay ducking and grinding
in the dark.



CHAPTER V--THE GOOD HOPE (continued)


The pier was not far distant from the house in which Joanna lay; it now
only remained to get the men on shore, to surround the house with a
strong party, burst in the door and carry off the captive.  They might
then regard themselves as done with the Good Hope; it had placed them on
the rear of their enemies; and the retreat, whether they should succeed
or fail in the main enterprise, would be directed with a greater measure
of hope in the direction of the forest and my Lord Foxham's reserve.

To get the men on shore, however, was no easy task; many had been sick,
all were pierced with cold; the promiscuity and disorder on board had
shaken their discipline; the movement of the ship and the darkness of the
night had cowed their spirits.  They made a rush upon the pier; my lord,
with his sword drawn on his own retainers, must throw himself in front;
and this impulse of rabblement was not restrained without a certain
clamour of voices, highly to be regretted in the case.

When some degree of order had been restored, Dick, with a few chosen men,
set forth in advance.  The darkness on shore, by contrast with the
flashing of the surf, appeared before him like a solid body; and the
howling and whistling of the gale drowned any lesser noise.

He had scarce reached the end of the pier, however, when there fell a
lull of the wind; and in this he seemed to hear on shore the hollow
footing of horses and the clash of arms.  Checking his immediate
followers, he passed forward a step or two alone, even setting foot upon
the down; and here he made sure he could detect the shape of men and
horses moving.  A strong discouragement assailed him.  If their enemies
were really on the watch, if they had beleaguered the shoreward end of
the pier, he and Lord Foxham were taken in a posture of very poor
defence, the sea behind, the men jostled in the dark upon a narrow
causeway.  He gave a cautious whistle, the signal previously agreed upon.

It proved to be a signal far more than he desired.  Instantly there fell,
through the black night, a shower of arrows sent at a venture; and so
close were the men huddled on the pier that more than one was hit, and
the arrows were answered with cries of both fear and pain.  In this first
discharge, Lord Foxham was struck down; Hawksley had him carried on board
again at once; and his men, during the brief remainder of the skirmish,
fought (when they fought at all) without guidance.  That was perhaps the
chief cause of the disaster which made haste to follow.

At the shore end of the pier, for perhaps a minute, Dick held his own
with a handful; one or two were wounded upon either side; steel crossed
steel; nor had there been the least signal of advantage, when in the
twinkling of an eye the tide turned against the party from the ship.
Someone cried out that all was lost; the men were in the very humour to
lend an ear to a discomfortable counsel; the cry was taken up.  "On
board, lads, for your lives!" cried another.  A third, with the true
instinct of the coward, raised that inevitable report on all retreats:
"We are betrayed!"  And in a moment the whole mass of men went surging
and jostling backward down the pier, turning their defenceless backs on
their pursuers and piercing the night with craven outcry.

One coward thrust off the ship's stern, while another still held her by
the bows.  The fugitives leaped, screaming, and were hauled on board, or
fell back and perished in the sea.  Some were cut down upon the pier by
the pursuers.  Many were injured on the ship's deck in the blind haste
and terror of the moment, one man leaping upon another, and a third on
both.  At last, and whether by design or accident, the bows of the Good
Hope were liberated; and the ever-ready Lawless, who had maintained his
place at the helm through all the hurly-burly by sheer strength of body
and a liberal use of the cold steel, instantly clapped her on the proper
tack.  The ship began to move once more forward on the stormy sea, its
scuppers running blood, its deck heaped with fallen men, sprawling and
struggling in the dark.

Thereupon, Lawless sheathed his dagger, and turning to his next
neighbour, "I have left my mark on them, gossip," said he, "the yelping,
coward hounds."

Now, while they were all leaping and struggling for their lives, the men
had not appeared to observe the rough shoves and cutting stabs with which
Lawless had held his post in the confusion.  But perhaps they had already
begun to understand somewhat more clearly, or perhaps another ear had
overheard, the helmsman's speech.

Panic-stricken troops recover slowly, and men who have just disgraced
themselves by cowardice, as if to wipe out the memory of their fault,
will sometimes run straight into the opposite extreme of insubordination.
So it was now; and the same men who had thrown away their weapons and
been hauled, feet foremost, into the Good Hope, began to cry out upon
their leaders, and demand that someone should be punished.

This growing ill-feeling turned upon Lawless.

In order to get a proper offing, the old outlaw had put the head of the
Good Hope to seaward.

"What!" bawled one of the grumblers, "he carrieth us to seaward!"

"'Tis sooth," cried another.  "Nay, we are betrayed for sure."

And they all began to cry out in chorus that they were betrayed, and in
shrill tones and with abominable oaths bade Lawless go about-ship and
bring them speedily ashore.  Lawless, grinding his teeth, continued in
silence to steer the true course, guiding the Good Hope among the
formidable billows.  To their empty terrors, as to their dishonourable
threats, between drink and dignity he scorned to make reply.  The
malcontents drew together a little abaft the mast, and it was plain they
were like barnyard cocks, "crowing for courage."  Presently they would be
fit for any extremity of injustice or ingratitude.  Dick began to mount
by the ladder, eager to interpose; but one of the outlaws, who was also
something of a seaman, got beforehand.

"Lads," he began, "y' are right wooden heads, I think.  For to get back,
by the mass, we must have an offing, must we not?  And this old
Lawless--"

Someone struck the speaker on the mouth, and the next moment, as a fire
springs among dry straw, he was felled upon the deck, trampled under the
feet, and despatched by the daggers of his cowardly companions.  At this
the wrath of Lawless rose and broke.

"Steer yourselves," he bellowed, with a curse; and, careless of the
result, he left the helm.

The Good Hope was, at that moment, trembling on the summit of a swell.
She subsided, with sickening velocity, upon the farther side.  A wave,
like a great black bulwark, hove immediately in front of her; and, with a
staggering blow, she plunged headforemost through that liquid hill.  The
green water passed right over her from stem to stern, as high as a man's
knees; the sprays ran higher than the mast; and she rose again upon the
other side, with an appalling, tremulous indecision, like a beast that
has been deadly wounded.

Six or seven of the malcontents had been carried bodily overboard; and as
for the remainder, when they found their tongues again, it was to bellow
to the saints and wail upon Lawless to come back and take the tiller.

Nor did Lawless wait to be twice bidden.  The terrible result of his
fling of just resentment sobered him completely.  He knew, better than
any one on board, how nearly the Good Hope had gone bodily down below
their feet; and he could tell, by the laziness with which she met the
sea, that the peril was by no means over.

Dick, who had been thrown down by the concussion and half drowned, rose
wading to his knees in the swamped well of the stern, and crept to the
old helmsman's side.

"Lawless," he said, "we do all depend on you; y' are a brave, steady man,
indeed, and crafty in the management of ships; I shall put three sure men
to watch upon your safety."

"Bootless, my master, bootless," said the steersman, peering forward
through the dark.  "We come every moment somewhat clearer of these
sandbanks; with every moment, then, the sea packeth upon us heavier, and
for all these whimperers, they will presently be on their backs.  For, my
master, 'tis a right mystery, but true, there never yet was a bad man
that was a good shipman.  None but the honest and the bold can endure me
this tossing of a ship."

"Nay, Lawless," said Dick, laughing, "that is a right shipman's byword,
and hath no more of sense than the whistle of the wind.  But, prithee,
how go we?  Do we lie well?  Are we in good case?"

"Master Shelton," replied Lawless, "I have been a Grey Friar--I praise
fortune--an archer, a thief, and a shipman.  Of all these coats, I had
the best fancy to die in the Grey Friar's, as ye may readily conceive,
and the least fancy to die in John Shipman's tarry jacket; and that for
two excellent good reasons: first, that the death might take a man
suddenly; and second, for the horror of that great, salt smother and
welter under my foot here"--and Lawless stamped with his foot.
"Howbeit," he went on, "an I die not a sailor's death, and that this
night, I shall owe a tall candle to our Lady."

"Is it so?" asked Dick.

"It is right so," replied the outlaw.  "Do ye not feel how heavy and dull
she moves upon the waves?  Do ye not hear the water washing in her hold?
She will scarce mind the rudder even now.  Bide till she has settled a
bit lower; and she will either go down below your boots like a stone
image, or drive ashore here, under our lee, and come all to pieces like a
twist of string."

"Ye speak with a good courage," returned Dick.  "Ye are not then
appalled?"

"Why, master," answered Lawless, "if ever a man had an ill crew to come
to port with, it is I--a renegade friar, a thief, and all the rest on't.
Well, ye may wonder, but I keep a good hope in my wallet; and if that I
be to drown, I will drown with a bright eye, Master Shelton, and a steady
hand."

Dick returned no answer; but he was surprised to find the old vagabond of
so resolute a temper, and fearing some fresh violence or treachery, set
forth upon his quest for three sure men.  The great bulk of the men had
now deserted the deck, which was continually wetted with the flying
sprays, and where they lay exposed to the shrewdness of the winter wind.
They had gathered, instead, into the hold of the merchandise, among the
butts of wine, and lighted by two swinging lanterns.

Here a few kept up the form of revelry, and toasted each other deep in
Arblaster's Gascony wine.  But as the Good Hope continued to tear through
the smoking waves, and toss her stem and stern alternately high in air
and deep into white foam, the number of these jolly companions diminished
with every moment and with every lurch.  Many sat apart, tending their
hurts, but the majority were already prostrated with sickness, and lay
moaning in the bilge.

Greensheve, Cuckow, and a young fellow of Lord Foxham's whom Dick had
already remarked for his intelligence and spirit, were still, however,
both fit to understand and willing to obey.  These Dick set, as a
body-guard, about the person of the steersman, and then, with a last look
at the black sky and sea, he turned and went below into the cabin,
whither Lord Foxham had been carried by his servants.



CHAPTER VI--THE GOOD HOPE (concluded)


The moans of the wounded baron blended with the wailing of the ship's
dog.  The poor animal, whether he was merely sick at heart to be
separated from his friends, or whether he indeed recognised some peril in
the labouring of the ship, raised his cries, like minute-guns, above the
roar of wave and weather; and the more superstitious of the men heard, in
these sounds, the knell of the Good Hope.

Lord Foxham had been laid in a berth upon a fur cloak.  A little lamp
burned dim before the Virgin in the bulkhead, and by its glimmer Dick
could see the pale countenance and hollow eyes of the hurt man.

"I am sore hurt," said he.  "Come near to my side, young Shelton; let
there be one by me who, at least, is gentle born; for after having lived
nobly and richly all the days of my life, this is a sad pass that I
should get my hurt in a little ferreting skirmish, and die here, in a
foul, cold ship upon the sea, among broken men and churls."

"Nay, my lord," said Dick, "I pray rather to the saints that ye will
recover you of your hurt, and come soon and sound ashore."

"How!" demanded his lordship.  "Come sound ashore?  There is, then, a
question of it?"

"The ship laboureth--the sea is grievous and contrary," replied the lad;
"and by what I can learn of my fellow that steereth us, we shall do well,
indeed, if we come dryshod to land."