The White Company
“What is that, Aylward?” cried several, leaning on their bows and
laughing at him.
“'Tis the master-bowyer's rede: 'Every bow well bent. Every shaft well
sent. Every stave well nocked. Every string well locked.' There, with
that jingle in his head, a bracer on his left hand, a shooting glove on
his right, and a farthing's-worth of wax in his girdle, what more doth a
bowman need?”
“It would not be amiss,” said Hordle John, “if under his girdle he had
four farthings'-worth of wine.”
“Work first, wine afterwards, mon camarade. But it is time that we
took our order, for methinks that between the Needle rocks and the Alum
cliffs yonder I can catch a glimpse of the topmasts of the galleys.
Hewett, Cook, Johnson, Cunningham, your men are of the poop-guard.
Thornbury, Walters, Hackett, Baddlesmere, you are with Sir Oliver on the
forecastle. Simon, you bide with your lord's banner; but ten men must go
forward.”
Quietly and promptly the men took their places, lying flat upon their
faces on the deck, for such was Sir Nigel's order. Near the prow was
planted Sir Oliver's spear, with his arms--a boar's head gules upon a
field of gold. Close by the stern stood Black Simon with the pennon of
the house of Loring. In the waist gathered the Southampton mariners,
hairy and burly men, with their jerkins thrown off, their waists braced
tight, swords, mallets, and pole-axes in their hands. Their leader,
Goodwin Hawtayne, stood upon the poop and talked with Sir Nigel, casting
his eye up sometimes at the swelling sail, and then glancing back at the
two seamen who held the tiller.
“Pass the word,” said Sir Nigel, “that no man shall stand to arms or
draw his bow-string until my trumpeter shall sound. It would be well
that we should seem to be a merchant-ship from Southampton and appear to
flee from them.”
“We shall see them anon,” said the master-shipman. “Ha, said I not so?
There they lie, the water-snakes, in Freshwater Bay; and mark the reek
of smoke from yonder point, where they have been at their devil's work.
See how their shallops pull from the land! They have seen us and called
their men aboard. Now they draw upon the anchor. See them like ants upon
the forecastle! They stoop and heave like handy ship men. But, my fair
lord, these are no niefs. I doubt but we have taken in hand more than
we can do. Each of these ships is a galeasse, and of the largest and
swiftest make.”
“I would I had your eyes,” said Sir Nigel, blinking at the pirate
galleys. “They seem very gallant ships, and I trust that we shall have
much pleasance from our meeting with them. It would be well to pass the
word that we should neither give nor take quarter this day. Have you
perchance a priest or friar aboard this ship, Master Hawtayne?”
“No, my fair lord.”
“Well, well, it is no great matter for my Company, for they were all
houseled and shriven ere we left Twynham Castle; and Father Christopher
of the Priory gave me his word that they were as fit to march to heaven
as to Gascony. But my mind misdoubts me as to these Winchester men who
have come with Sir Oliver, for they appear to be a very ungodly crew.
Pass the word that the men kneel, and that the under-officers repeat to
them the pater, the ave, and the credo.”
With a clank of arms, the rough archers and seamen took to their knees,
with bent heads and crossed hands, listening to the hoarse mutter from
the file-leaders. It was strange to mark the hush; so that the lapping
of the water, the straining of the sail, and the creaking of the timbers
grew louder of a sudden upon the ear. Many of the bowmen had drawn
amulets and relics from their bosoms, while he who possessed some
more than usually sanctified treasure passed it down the line of his
comrades, that all might kiss and reap the virtue.
The yellow cog had now shot out from the narrow waters of the Solent,
and was plunging and rolling on the long heave of the open channel. The
wind blew freshly from the east, with a very keen edge to it; and the
great sail bellied roundly out, laying the vessel over until the water
hissed beneath her lee bulwarks. Broad and ungainly, she floundered from
wave to wave, dipping her round bows deeply into the blue rollers, and
sending the white flakes of foam in a spatter over her decks. On her
larboard quarter lay the two dark galleys, which had already hoisted
sail, and were shooting out from Freshwater Bay in swift pursuit, their
double line of oars giving them a vantage which could not fail to bring
them up with any vessel which trusted to sails alone. High and bluff the
English cog; long, black and swift the pirate galleys, like two fierce
lean wolves which have seen a lordly and unsuspecting stag walk past
their forest lair.
“Shall we turn, my fair lord, or shall we carry on?” asked the
master-shipman, looking behind him with anxious eyes.
“Nay, we must carry on and play the part of the helpless merchant.”
“But your pennons? They will see that we have two knights with us.”
“Yet it would not be to a knight's honor or good name to lower his
pennon. Let them be, and they will think that we are a wine-ship for
Gascony, or that we bear the wool-bales of some mercer of the Staple. Ma
foi, but they are very swift! They swoop upon us like two goshawks on a
heron. Is there not some symbol or device upon their sails?”
“That on the right,” said Edricson, “appears to have the head of an
Ethiop upon it.”
“'Tis the badge of Tete-noire, the Norman,” cried a seaman-mariner. “I
have seen it before, when he harried us at Winchelsea. He is a wondrous
large and strong man, with no ruth for man, woman, or beast. They say
that he hath the strength of six; and, certes, he hath the crimes of six
upon his soul. See, now, to the poor souls who swing at either end of
his yard-arm!”
At each end of the yard there did indeed hang the dark figure of a man,
jolting and lurching with hideous jerkings of its limbs at every plunge
and swoop of the galley.
“By St. Paul!” said Sir Nigel, “and by the help of St. George and Our
Lady, it will be a very strange thing if our black-headed friend does
not himself swing thence ere he be many hours older. But what is that
upon the other galley?”
“It is the red cross of Genoa. This Spade-beard is a very noted captain,
and it is his boast that there are no seamen and no archers in the world
who can compare with those who serve the Doge Boccanegra.”
“That we shall prove,” said Goodwin Hawtayne; “but it would be well,
ere they close with us, to raise up the mantlets and pavises as a screen
against their bolts.” He shouted a hoarse order, and his seamen worked
swiftly and silently, heightening the bulwarks and strengthening them.
The three ship's anchors were at Sir Nigel's command carried into the
waist, and tied to the mast, with twenty feet of cable between, each
under the care of four seamen. Eight others were stationed with leather
water-bags to quench any fire-arrows which might come aboard, while
others were sent up the mast, to lie along the yard and drop stones or
shoot arrows as the occasion served.
“Let them be supplied with all that is heavy and weighty in the ship,”
said Sir Nigel.
“Then we must send them up Sir Oliver Buttesthorn,” quoth Ford.
The knight looked at him with a face which struck the smile from his
lips. “No squire of mine,” he said, “shall ever make jest of a belted
knight. And yet,” he added, his eyes softening, “I know that it is but
a boy's mirth, with no sting in it. Yet I should ill do my part towards
your father if I did not teach you to curb your tongue-play.”
“They will lay us aboard on either quarter, my lord,” cried the master.
“See how they stretch out from each other! The Norman hath a mangonel
or a trabuch upon the forecastle. See, they bend to the levers! They are
about to loose it.”
“Aylward,” cried the knight, “pick your three trustiest archers, and see
if you cannot do something to hinder their aim. Methinks they are within
long arrow flight.”
“Seventeen score paces,” said the archer, running his eye backwards and
forwards. “By my ten finger-bones! it would be a strange thing if we
could not notch a mark at that distance. Here, Watkin of Sowley, Arnold,
Long Williams, let us show the rogues that they have English bowmen to
deal with.”
The three archers named stood at the further end of the poop, balancing
themselves with feet widely spread and bows drawn, until the heads of
the cloth-yard arrows were level with the centre of the stave. “You
are the surer, Watkin,” said Aylward, standing by them with shaft upon
string. “Do you take the rogue with the red coif. You two bring down the
man with the head-piece, and I will hold myself ready if you miss. Ma
foi! they are about to loose her. Shoot, mes garcons, or you will be too
late.”
The throng of pirates had cleared away from the great wooden catapult,
leaving two of their number to discharge it. One in a scarlet cap
bent over it, steadying the jagged rock which was balanced on the
spoon-shaped end of the long wooden lever. The other held the loop of
the rope which would release the catch and send the unwieldy missile
hurtling through the air. So for an instant they stood, showing hard and
clear against the white sail behind them. The next, redcap had fallen
across the stone with an arrow between his ribs; and the other, struck
in the leg and in the throat, was writhing and spluttering upon the
ground. As he toppled backwards he had loosed the spring, and the huge
beam of wood, swinging round with tremendous force, cast the corpse of
his comrade so close to the English ship that its mangled and distorted
limbs grazed their very stern. As to the stone, it glanced off obliquely
and fell midway between the vessels. A roar of cheering and of laughter
broke from the rough archers and seamen at the sight, answered by a yell
of rage from their pursuers.
“Lie low, mes enfants,” cried Aylward, motioning with his left hand.
“They will learn wisdom. They are bringing forward shield and mantlet.
We shall have some pebbles about our ears ere long.”
CHAPTER XVI. HOW THE YELLOW COG FOUGHT THE TWO ROVER GALLEYS.
The three vessels had been sweeping swiftly westwards, the cog still
well to the front, although the galleys were slowly drawing in upon
either quarter. To the left was a hard skyline unbroken by a sail. The
island already lay like a cloud behind them, while right in front
was St. Alban's Head, with Portland looming mistily in the farthest
distance. Alleyne stood by the tiller, looking backwards, the fresh wind
full in his teeth, the crisp winter air tingling on his face and blowing
his yellow curls from under his bassinet. His cheeks were flushed and
his eyes shining, for the blood of a hundred fighting Saxon ancestors
was beginning to stir in his veins.
“What was that?” he asked, as a hissing, sharp-drawn voice seemed to
whisper in his ear. The steersman smiled, and pointed with his foot to
where a short heavy cross-bow quarrel stuck quivering in the boards.
At the same instant the man stumbled forward upon his knees, and lay
lifeless upon the deck, a blood-stained feather jutting out from his
back. As Alleyne stooped to raise him, the air seemed to be alive with
the sharp zip-zip of the bolts, and he could hear them pattering on the
deck like apples at a tree-shaking.
“Raise two more mantlets by the poop-lanthorn,” said Sir Nigel quietly.
“And another man to the tiller,” cried the master-shipman.
“Keep them in play, Aylward, with ten of your men,” the knight
continued. “And let ten of Sir Oliver's bowmen do as much for the
Genoese. I have no mind as yet to show them how much they have to fear
from us.”
Ten picked shots under Aylward stood in line across the broad deck, and