Westward Ho!, Charles Kingsley [whitelam books txt] 📗

but still, they are a sight better than they ever had before. An old hoop is better than a deer’s bone, as Ayacanora knows,—eh?”

“I don’t know anything about it,” said she, who was always nettled at the least allusion to her past wild life. “I am an English girl now, and all that is gone—I forget it.”

“Forget it?” said he, teasing her for want of something better to do. “Should not you like to sail with us, now, and see the Indians in the forests once again?”

“Sail with you?” and she looked up eagerly.

“There! I knew it! She would not be four-and-twenty hours ashore, but she would be off into the woods again, bow in hand, like any runaway nymph, and we should never see her more.”

“It is false, bad man!” and she burst into violent tears, and hid her face in Mrs. Leigh’s lap.

“Amyas, Amyas, why do you tease the poor fatherless thing?”

“I was only jesting, I’m sure,” said Amyas, like a repentant schoolboy. “Don’t cry now, don’t cry, my child, see here,” and he began fumbling in his pockets; “see what I bought of a chapman in town to-day, for you, my maid, indeed, I did.”

And out he pulled some smart kerchief or other, which had taken his sailor’s fancy.

“Look at it now, blue, and crimson, and green, like any parrot!” and he held it out.

She looked round sharply, snatched it out of his hand, and tore it to shreds.

“I hate it, and I hate you!” and she sprang up and darted out of the room.

“Oh, boy, boy!” said Mrs. Leigh, “will you kill that poor child? It matters little for an old heart like mine, which has but one or two chords left whole, how soon it be broken altogether; but a young heart is one of God’s precious treasures, Amyas, and suffers many a long pang in the breaking; and woe to them who despise Christ’s little ones!”

“Break your heart, mother?”

“Never mind my heart, dear son; yet how can you break it more surely than by tormenting one whom I love, because she loves you?”

“Tut! play, mother, and maids’ tempers. But how can I break your heart? What have I done? Have I not given up going again to the West Indies for your sake? Have I not given up going to Virginia, and now again settled to go after all, just because you commanded? Was it not your will? Have I not obeyed you, mother, mother? I will stay at home now, if you will. I would rather rust here on land, I vow I would, than grieve you—” and he threw himself at his mother’s knees.

“Have I asked you not to go to Virginia? No, dear boy, though every thought of a fresh parting seems to crack some new fibre within me, you must go! It is your calling. Yes; you were not sent into the world to amuse me, but to work. I have had pleasure enough of you, my darling, for many a year, and too much, perhaps; till I shrank from lending you to the Lord. But He must have you… . It is enough for the poor old widow to know that her boy is what he is, and to forget all her anguish day by day, for joy that a man is born into the world. But, Amyas, Amyas, are you so blind as not to see that Ayacanora—”

“Don’t talk about her, poor child. Talk about yourself.”

“How long have I been worth talking about? No, Amyas, you must see it; and if you will not see it now, you will see it one day in some sad and fearful prodigy; for she is not one to die tamely. She loves you, Amyas, as a woman only can love.”

“Loves me? Well, of course. I found her, and brought her home; and I don’t deny she may think that she owes me somewhat—though it was no more than a Christian man’s duty. But as for her caring much for me, mother, you measure every one else’s tenderness by your own.”

“Think that she owes you somewhat? Silly boy, this is not gratitude, but a deeper affection, which may be more heavenly than gratitude, as it may, too, become a horrible cause of ruin. It rests with you, Amyas, which of the two it will be.”

“You are in earnest?”

“Have I the heart or the time to jest?”

“No, no, of course not; but, mother, I thought it was not comely for women to fall in love with men?”

“Not comely, at least, to confess their love to men. But she has never done that, Amyas; not even by a look or a tone of voice, though I have watched her for months.”

“To be sure, she is as demure as any cat when I am in the way. I only wonder how you found it out.”

“Ah,” said she, smiling sadly, “even in the saddest woman’s soul there linger snatches of old music, odors of flowers long dead and turned to dust—pleasant ghosts, which still keep her mind attuned to that which may be in others, though in her never more; till she can hear her own wedding-hymn re-echoed in the tones of every girl who loves, and sees her own wedding-torch relighted in the eyes of every bride.”

“You would not have me marry her?” asked blunt, practical Amyas.

“God knows what I would have—I know not; I see neither your path nor my own—no, not after weeks and months of prayer. All things beyond are wrapped in mist; and what will be, I know not, save that whatever else is wrong, mercy at least is right.”

“I’d sail tomorrow, if I could. As for marrying her, mother—her birth, mind me—”

“Ah, boy, boy! Are you God, to visit the sins of the parents upon the children?”

“Not that. I don’t mean that; but I mean this, that she is half a Spaniard, mother; and I cannot!—Her blood may be as blue as King Philip’s own, but it is Spanish still! I cannot bear the thought that my children should have in their veins one drop of that poison.”

“Amyas! Amyas!” interrupted she, “is this not, too, visiting the parents’ sins on the children?”

“Not a whit; it is common sense,—she must have the taint of their bloodthirsty humor. She has it—I have seen it in her again and again. I have told you, have I not? Can I forget the look of her eyes as she stood over that galleon’s captain, with the smoking knife in her hand.—Ugh! And she is not tamed yet, as you can see, and never will be:—not that I care, except for her own sake, poor thing!”

“Cruel boy! to impute as a blame to the poor child, not only the errors of her training, but the very madness of her love!”

“Of her love?”

“Of what else, blind buzzard? From the moment that you told me the story of that captain’s death, I knew what was in her heart—and thus it is that you requite her for having saved your life!”

“Umph! that is one word too much, mother. If you don’t want to send me crazy, don’t put the thing on the score of gratitude or duty. As it is, I can hardly speak civilly to her (God forgive me!) when I recollect that she belongs to the crew who murdered him”—and he pointed to the picture, and Mrs. Leigh shuddered as he did so.

“You feel it! You know you feel it, tenderhearted, forgiving angel as you are; and what do you think I must feel?”

“Oh, my son, my son!” cried she, wringing her hands, “if I be wretch enough to give place to the devil for a moment, does that give you a right to entertain and cherish him thus day by day?”

“I should cherish him with a vengeance, if I brought up a crew of children who could boast of a pedigree of idolaters and tyrants, hunters of Indians, and torturers of women! How pleasant to hear her telling Master Jack, ‘Your illustrious grand-uncle the pope’s legate, was the man who burned Rose Salterne at Cartagena;’ or Miss Grace, ‘Your great-grandfather of sixteen quarterings, the Marquis of this, son of the Grand-equerry that, and husband of the Princess t’other, used to feed his bloodhounds, when beef was scarce, with Indians’ babies!’ Eh, mother? These things are true, and if you can forget them, I cannot. Is it not enough to have made me forego for awhile my purpose, my business, the one thing I live for, and that is, hunting down the Spaniards as I would adders or foxes, but you must ask me over and above to take one to my bosom?”

“Oh, my son, my son! I have not asked you to do that; I have only commanded you, in God’s name, to be merciful, if you wish to obtain mercy. Oh, if you will not pity this poor maiden, pity yourself; for God knows you stand in more need of it than she does!”

Amyas was silent for a minute or two; and then,—

“If it were not for you, mother, would God that the Armada would come!”

“What, and ruin England?”

“No! Curse them! Not a foot will they ever set on English soil, such a welcome would we give them. If I were but in the midst of that fleet, fighting like a man—to forget it all, with a galleon on board of me to larboard, and another to starboard—and then to put a linstock in the magazine, and go aloft in good company—I don’t care how soon it comes, mother, if it were not for you.”

“If I am in your way, Amyas, do not fear that I shall trouble you long.”

“Oh, mother, mother, do not talk in that way! I am half-mad, I think, already, and don’t know what I say. Yes, I am mad; mad at heart, though not at head. There’s a fire burning me up, night and day, and nothing but Spanish blood will put it out.”

“Or the grace of God, my poor wilful child! Who comes to the door?—so quickly, too?”

There was a loud hurried knocking, and in another minute a serving-man hurried in with a letter.

“This to Captain Amyas Leigh with haste, haste!”

It was Sir Richard’s hand. Amyas tore it open; and “a loud laugh laughed he.”

“The Armada is coming! My wish has come true, mother!”

“God help us, it has! Show me the letter.”

It was a hurried scrawl.

 

“DR. GODSON,—Walsingham sends word that the Ada. sailed from Lisbon to the Groyne the 18. of May. We know no more, but have commandment to stay the ships. Come down, dear lad, and give us counsel; and may the Lord help His Church in this great strait.

“Your loving godfather,

R. G.”

 

“Forgive me, mother, mother, once for all!” cried Amyas, throwing his arms round her neck.

“I have nothing to forgive, my son, my son! And shall I lose thee, also?”

“If I be killed, you will have two martyrs of your blood, mother!—”

Mrs. Leigh bowed her head, and was silent. Amyas caught up his hat and sword, and darted forth toward Bideford.

Amyas literally danced into Sir Richard’s hall, where he stood talking earnestly with various merchants and captains.

“Gloria, gloria! gentles all! The devil is broke loose at last; and now we know where to have him on the hip!”

“Why so merry, Captain Leigh, when all else are sad?” said a gentle voice by his side.

“Because I have been sad a long time, while all else were merry, dear lady. Is the hawk doleful when his hood is pulled off, and he sees the heron flapping right ahead of him?”

“You