The First of the English 9 – Gunter · Verses Across
Literature · Romance
The First of the English 9Book 2 · Chapter 9
18
Literature · Romance
The First of the English 9
Book 2 · Chapter 9
GunterEnglish
“NO PROVISIONS, NO WATER, BUT PLENTY OF POWDER!”
On the morning of the second day after this, Chester lands at Sandwich, and by relays of horses travels as fast as is in man and beast to London.
Arriving at the capital, he learns that his sovereign and her court are at Hampton, and to his joy discovers from popular tongue that the Queen is enjoying the best of health. He is in time to prevent any attempt at Borgia business with the hope of the realm.
For at that time all true Englishmen, Catholics or Protestants, feared that by some underhand, insidious Italian plot, Elizabeth of England was in some way to be done to death and the kingdom given to her legitimate successor to the throne, Mary Queen of Scots, who was a prisoner in Elizabeth’s hands; one ambitious noble of Catholic faith, the Duke of Norfolk, being not only anxious to liberate the beautiful Mary and put her on the throne of England, but also to marry her and reign as Prince Consort. This would have placed Britain thoroughly under the influence of Philip II., of Spain, and have opened the way for his pet scheme, the establishing of the Inquisition in England, with all its horrors of burnings, flayings, and torturings as practiced in the Netherlands under similar circumstances by Alva, his Viceroy and lieutenant.
Better Englishman than bigot, Guy Chester, though a moderate Catholic, is exceedingly anxious for the safety of his Protestant Queen.
All this makes Guy in desperate haste to give her warning of her danger at the hands of Ridolfi, Alva’s agent in London.
So, taking horse again, though thoroughly tired by his long ride from Sandwich, the young Englishman finds himself in the early evening at the palace of Hampton Court. There getting quick audience with Cecil, Lord Burleigh, he gives him the cipher letters from Vitelli to Ridolfi, and also the key furnished by Oliver.
Upon Guy’s hastily mentioning the purport of these letters, his lordship, with a very serious face, says: “You have done a great service to the State. But I imagine you have been riding all day. I will see that you have supper and refreshment,” and summoning a lackey, gives order to this effect. “By the time you have finished making yourself comfortable, I and my under-secretary will have translated and transcribed these letters for the Queen’s private eye. These you shall present in person to your sovereign, as is your right.”
This arrangement is very satisfactory to the young man, who has been in the saddle twelve hours and has partaken of but hasty refreshment on the road.
So an hour afterward Guy, his body made comfortable with food and his spirits heightened by wine, accompanies Lord Burleigh, who now holds England in his grasp, having the favor and confidence of his sovereign, to Queen Elizabeth’s waiting room, where they are received in rather off-hand style by Her Majesty of England, who is in great fashion of jeweled stomacher, above which her white shoulders glitter with necklace of pearls and diamonds. Very vain, as she has a right to be, as daughter of Anne Boleyn, the beauty of her father’s court, she stands in kirtle and long train covered with aglets inlaid with precious stones and high-heeled Spanish shoes, making a great show of vanity, sprightliness, dignity and domination. In short, she is good Queen Bess, at her best and bravest—at thirty-five—at her zenith—before age gets the better of her beauty and her temper.
“My good Burleigh,” she says, “what a hasty man you are. I have but just received your communication saying time was important, and have omitted five courses of my supper and sent my tiring women where their prying ears will not catch private conference. And you, Master Chester, my robber of the sea, have you discovered another eight hundred thousand crowns of Alva’s money within my jurisdiction and government?”
“No,” answers Burleigh, as the two bow before her, “Master Chester has simply discovered a plot of my Lord of Alva against your life. These letters from Vitelli, his maréchal de camp and confidant to Ridolfi, the Italian banker of London, prove it.”
“Oho! in cipher,” says the Queen, looking at them.
“Yes, but thanks to Master Chester’s being willing to risk his life for Your Majesty again, he has obtained the cipher in Antwerp. These letters are now transcribed into English.”
“Quick—let me see!” And Elizabeth, sitting down and hastily glancing them through, cries out: “So they would poison me, and put that traitor Norfolk on the throne as consort to the lady whom I hold in my hand. That settles Norfolk! He was yesterday condemned for high treason by the Lords. These letters, my Burleigh, are his death warrant. With the lady I’ll reckon afterwards, and as for Ridolfi—”
“Orders have already been given to have Ridolfi seized, Your Majesty,” interjects Burleigh.
“Very well,” replies Elizabeth, “then there is nothing more to do for the present, though I shall change my cook; except”—here Her Majesty’s eyes light up—“except to reward this young gentleman whom we have outlawed for matters of State policy: but then, we love pirates! There is our Francis Drake, who thinks no more of despoiling a Spaniard and turning in ten per cent. of his booty than he does of eating and drinking. There’s old John Hawkins, who’ll steal blackamoors on the coast of Africa to sell them to the Dons and cut their throats while trading with them—all for the glory of England! In fact, I think, Burleigh, pirates are my best subjects. But since I have dismissed my own mummers this evening on your account Master Chester, I ought to have some compensation. Tell me the tale of your adventures in the Netherlands.”
This Guy doing, Her Majesty listens with open ears and one or two little chuckles and slaps with her fan upon Burleigh, though at the mention of Doña de Alva they give earnest attention, especially at that portion of Chester’s story which refers to his various interviews with that young lady. And Guy, getting warmed up to his subject, his eyes brighten once or twice in mentioning the beauty of the girl.
“Odds bodkins!” cries Elizabeth, as he closes. “This is a story as romantic as the troubadours tell of Amadis de Gaul saving maidens from giants, as you did Miss Minx of Alva from the Sea Beggars. Egad, I’m afraid she has disturbed his loyalty, my Burleigh. When speaking of his Spanish wench, Master Chester looks at his sovereign of England in a manner that the Lords might condemn as high treason.”
“Ah, Your Gracious Majesty,” replies Guy, who is courtier as well as pirate, “if love is high treason, then every young man who gazes upon his sovereign of England is a traitor.”
His ardent glance emphasizes his speech, which is easy, as Elizabeth is in the zenith of her beauty—a beauty that is hardly understood now, most of her portraits having been taken when she was fifty and upward. But as Chester looks at her she is only thirty-five.
“And I will punish this audacious gallant,” she says, laughing, “though he is no traitor. Give me your sword, Guy Chester.”
The young man is about to unbuckle the weapon.
“No, naked, as you use it on my enemies!”
Drawing it from the scabbard and sinking on one knee, Guy, a sudden hope of unexpected glory coming to him, hands it to his sovereign.
“He is of good birth, Burleigh, I hear?”
“Your Majesty,” says Cecil, bowing, “on his mother’s side he has the blood of Lord Stanhope of Harrington. His father is cousin to the Stanleys and High Sheriff of Cheshire. His grandfather was belted knight.”
“Then,” says the Queen of England, “he shall be knight also!” And administers with dainty hand the accolade, saying: “Rise up, Sir Guy Chester!”
But Sir Guy does not rise before he does homage to the fair hand that has knighted him so gallantly that Her Majesty gets red in the face, and cries out: “What new science in hand kissing has this Spanish girl taught him?”
Next the young man standing before her she tenders him his sword, holding it by the naked blade, the handle toward his hand, saying: “May you as belted knight use this as you have before to the terror of the enemies of England; especially he of Alva—do not spare him for his daughter’s sake.”
“No,” returns Guy, “for every blow I strike against the father brings me nearer to the daughter.”
“Odd stale fish!” jeers Her Majesty, “what does this new made popinjay of Chester think to do with the daughter of a prince?”
“To marry her, by God’s will and Your Majesty’s most gracious permission,” cries Guy, and retires with Lord Burleigh, leaving the Queen of England in very good humor with her new knight.
But notwithstanding Chester’s information has, perchance, saved the life of his Queen, Elizabeth, great sovereign as she is, has a strange parsimony in affairs of State, and though Guy petitions for money to refit his vessel and pay his crew, it does not come. So, being desperately anxious to get to the Netherlands again, he uses the hundred doubloons, the present from his sweetheart, to fit up his vessel against her father, devoting half of them to the embellishment and ornament of the cabins of the Dover Lass, making her staterooms so fine in woodwork and appointments that Harry Dalton, his first lieutenant, ejaculates: “By saucy Poll of Plymouth, one would think he meant this for a wedding cruise!”
But despite the hundred doubloons Chester soon finds himself without money sufficient to provision and make his vessel thoroughly effective, and goes up to London from Sandwich to make a final appeal to his parsimonious sovereign.
Expecting to do this through Burleigh, who possesses more than any one the royal ear, and who has always stood his friend, Chester is shown into his Lordship’s private cabinet one afternoon late in March, to find that nobleman in a brown study.
“You’re just the man I wish to see, Sir Guy,” he remarks. “Tell me all about the Gueux, these Sea Beggars of the Netherlands.”
“That, my lord, I can do in very few words,” replies Chester. “They are men of all classes from Brabant, Flanders, Friesland, Holland—everywhere that Alva rules, driven by cruelty and persecution to take to the sea, for to live on the land means execution by fire, with torture additional. They have been outlawed on account of their resistance to Spanish tyranny. In it are men high in the councils of the Prince of Orange, who has attempted to regulate them by granting commissions, one of which I have the honor to hold, and the medal accompanying it I wear,” and he exhibits his badge of the Gueux to Lord Burleigh. “In it are all those driven from land to ship, from the Chevalier Van Tresslong and William de la Mark, the Lord of Lumey to Dirk Duyvel, whose name proclaims him a free and easy pirate. But why do you ask me about the Gueux?”
“For this reason. Twenty-five vessels manned by them are now in the harbor of Dover. They appeal to us for protection, provisions, water. Van Tresslong, and their admiral, De la Mark, are in London to ask assistance. We are nominally at peace with Spain and Alva, but I don’t like to refuse them hospitality.”
“Twenty-five sail—’tis a fleet! You must refuse them hospitality,” returns Guy.
“Why?”
“Please let me explain this to the Queen. Take me to her; I must have money for my ship.”
“Which I’m afraid Her Majesty will not grant very readily. She’s had a dozen new dresses this month—millinery bills in the female mind have the preference over naval equipment,” laughs Cecil; but orders his carriage.
So the two proceed to Westminster, where the Queen has summoned Burleigh, to obtain his advice before receiving the envoys of the Gueux.
“Zounds!” cries Her Majesty, “My Lord of Burleigh, I see you have brought another Gueux with you. Is he their ambassador also?” With this she looks at Guy frowningly, for the Gueux have bothered Queen Elizabeth’s mind for the last day or two. They are hungry people, and she does not care particularly about feeding them; they are thirsty people, and she does not desire to diminish her exchequer to buy drink for them; but they are enemies of Alva, and she would like to succor them.
“No, Your Majesty,” replies Guy with sudden inspiration, “I do not appeal for succor for the Gueux. Don’t give them any!”
“Why not?” asks Queen Elizabeth, who is unaccustomed to being advised so freely outside of her Privy Council.
“For these reasons: If you give them provisions and drink, they will stay here, and be your guests and pensioners as long as your hospitality holds out.”
“Out on the lazy rascals they would eat me out of castle and kingdom,” grumbles Her Majesty.
“Twenty-five vessels are a fleet. They have left the Netherlands, that leaves Alva’s hands so much more free to deal with you.”
“Then you would refuse them food?”
“Yes,” replies Guy. “Not a barrel of provisions.”
“But they have no water.”
“Not a barrel of water. Provision them and water their ships, and, though they be ordered from England, they will not go back to the Netherlands. The Spanish Main, where booty is thick for bold hands like theirs, will perchance be more to their liking than Alva’s hard knocks. Give them nothing but powder and ball. Then they must sail to near-by port. They dare not go to France, they must go back straight at Alva’s throat, and twenty-five vessels of them are a power that may change the whole course of military events. They have been weak before because they were never banded together. Now there is unity. Give them powder, Your Majesty, give them powder and ball for him of Alva!”
“Ho! ho! Make ’em fight for their dinners! Gadzooks!” cries Her Majesty. “My Sir Guy Chester, uses not only his sword, but his head. What say you, Burleigh?”
“Say?” replies the English statesman, who is great enough and generous enough to admit the wisdom of another, “I say he has given you the wisest advice you have ever received. You make the Spanish ambassador happy by telling him you will refuse admission or succor to the Gueux, and by doing so you send a thunderbolt straight at Alva and Spain, stronger than you could unless you waged open war with England’s powers at land and sea, for which we are not ready—”
“But it will come in good time, my lord,” remarks Elizabeth. Then summoning a page, she says: “Give order for the two envoys of the Gueux to enter.”
Then Van Tresslong and De la Mark enter to receive what they think is their despair, but in time will be their glory.
Her Majesty of England, standing upon a dais, receives very haughtily the two adventurers, whose doublets are shabby with hard usage, but whose swords are long, and whose gaunt faces give evidence of poverty and half rations.
“You are here, gentlemen,” she says, “to petition me—for what?”
“Provisions to keep us from starving,” answers the admiral.
“No provisions!”
“Good heavens! In the name of charity. We had supposed you enemy of Alva.”
“I am the friend of Alva. No provisions! What else?”
“And water—we have only three days’ water in our vessels. Permit us at least that which humanity never refused to thirsty sailor—water!”
“No water! Dare to land to take water from running stream or lake and I make war upon you!”
“And this is a Christian country?”
“Yes, Christian enough to keep its obligations and faith with Spain, a friendly power. If within twenty-four hours you have not sailed from our port of Dover our batteries and castle open upon you with bombard and culverin.”
“And drive us away without water, without food, upon the open ocean?”
“YES!”
“Then, Your Majesty,” says Van Tresslong, “God forgive your inhumanity. We have given up for our religion, which is yours; for our country that you have professed to love, everything we have on earth—save our lives. When the time comes we will give up them also. It must now be our lives. We must go back to death grip with Alva!”
“Heaven help us,” sighs the admiral. “We have not even powder to fight with!” and the two, bowing together, retire in despair from the presence of England’s sovereign.
She makes one step as if to stay them, then cries harshly: “God forgive me! I shall be called an inhuman woman. I shall dream of these poor, starving Gueux to-night. But they shall not go back without ball and powder!” With this she says to Chester: “Has your vessel sailed?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“Then you shall go also. Here are orders for you to have all the powder, arms, ball and ammunition you can carry. Take them. Sail from the port of Sandwich to-night. Meet the Gueux fleet off Dover. Arm them; ammunition them, give them plenty to fight with.”
“But, Your Majesty,” replies Guy, who now knows he will win what he wants, “I have no money to pay my crew.”
“Here is an order on my treasury for twenty thousand crowns.” And Elizabeth, sitting down to write, says suddenly: “But your crew is only one hundred and twenty-five men. Fifteen thousand crowns will keep your surly dogs from growling,” and signs order to that effect, next almost tears it up, muttering: “I think ten thousand will be sufficient.”
“No, Your Majesty, it will not, and the expedition will be cheap at fifteen thousand crowns, for by it you will set a band of cut-throats on Alva, who, while they may curse your inhumanity, will fight far better than your belted knights, for they will be fighting, not for country now, not for religion now, but for that thing that dominates all men’s souls—EXISTENCE! Besides, they do it free of charge!”
“Egad, we have an orator here, Cecil,” laughs Her Majesty. “A regular sea lawyer. Some day, perchance, he may be—under-secretary of state, eh, Lord Burleigh?”
“Perchance, Your Majesty. You have had many of them with less brains.”
“And less jabber,” replies Elizabeth, who cannot forget that she has fifteen thousand crowns less in her treasury. “He talked me out of the money, he took advantage of my weakness, Lord Burleigh. Take him away from here before I take the treasury order back. But go after those two poor Gueux nobles, have them to dinner with you. Show them you have a heart if your Queen has not.” Then the two go out from the presence of Elizabeth of England, Guy stepping quite rapidly. He fears Her Majesty may rescind the draft on her exchequer.
Burleigh accompanies him to the treasury, apparently nervous himself about this matter. But the money being paid over, he says to Guy: “Her Majesty said to see these Gueux well armed and well ammunitioned. Will your vessel carry enough?”
“For a campaign?—No!”
“Then,” says Burleigh, “here is my order, Sir Guy Chester. Take with you four ships, fill them up with powder, arms and munitions of war, for which I will give you royal warrant on the Queen’s arsenal at Sandwich, Harwich, or any other to which you may apply. This is not merely an engagement for which we send these men, but a war, long and continued, against Alva; for it is now his head or those of the starving Beggars of the Sea. Here is also warrant permitting you if satisfactory charter cannot be obtained, to take the vessels you need for our purpose. But of course all this is private and privileged between us. England is at peace with Spain. So, God speed you.”
So Guy, going upon his errand with all the expedition he can command, obtains possession of four large caravals in the port of Sandwich, and loads them to the gunwale with all the arms and munitions of war he can obtain, powder enough for many a battle and many a siege, and taking these with him sails on the morning of the next day through the Downs and lies off and on between the Goodwin Sands and Coast of France. Here the Gueux, coming out of Dover, can’t very well miss him, and he is very shortly overhauled and apparently captured by these desperate gentry of the sea.
“Elizabeth of England would not give you provisions, but here are arms and ammunition with which to take them from Alva,” Chester laughs, as Tresslong’s vessel ranges alongside of the Dover Lass.
And understanding this very well, the Gueux loot the four captured vessels in great style, leaving him of the Dover Lass hardly enough powder to defend her with, which causes Guy to put very hastily into Dover for ammunition for himself.
Word of this being brought to Queen Elizabeth she cries out very savagely to her counsellor, Lord Burleigh: “Gadzooks, man, you have ruined my kingdom. You’ve robbed my arsenal at Sandwich of munitions sufficient to defend the realm of England. Thou art a vile traitor!”
“Under favor, my liege,” remarks Cecil, “you said to munition and arm the Gueux well and thoroughly. I have done so. The more powder I give them, the more ball I give them, the harder it will be for your friend of Alva.”
“Very well,” answers Her Majesty, “this I forgive you if you gave a good wholesome dinner and plenty of strong wine to those poor famishing officers of the Gueux, Van Tresslong and Lord de la Mark.”
“Your Majesty’s orders in that respect were obeyed also,” replies Burleigh. “They had every delicacy of the season and wine of finest vintage. Oho! I can see them eat now. No such assault was ever made on provender and wassail since the time of giant Glutton himself. Your Majesty will know how they ate by the bill that is already with your treasurer.”
“The bill with my treasurer!” screams Elizabeth. “Out upon you for a miserable, thieving knave! Burleigh, you’re robbing me; robbing your sovereign, you vile caitiff traitor—and my gear women and millinery scores still due and unpaid. Look to your weazened head if the Gueux win not victory over Alva!”
And with these words the Queen of England strides from the room in anger and dismay.
