Antony Waymouth: or, The Gentlemen Adventurers. Kingston William Henry Giles
as they are themselves that they treat them in the same way as they are treated by us.”
Waymouth warmly seconded the admiral’s proposal; so did several of the superior officers, though others grumbled at letting the prisoners off without a ransom, or trusting to their honour to return the favour they were to receive.
Away sailed the Portugal ship with all the prisoners on board; not, however, without Waymouth having extracted a promise from all the officers to make inquiries for his friend Raymond, and to let him know, if alive, where he was to be found. Waymouth hoped that among them some at least would do their utmost to redeem their promise.
Once more the English fleet was sailing proudly over the seas, but sadly diminished in the number of their men. The wealth collected seemed prodigious in the eyes of the crews, and little short of that obtained by Drake of the Spaniards. Still their success only made them greedy for more, and the seamen especially expressed their aversion to the trading part of the enterprise, and loudly proclaimed their desire to cruise against any enemy to be found – Dutch, if Portugals could not be found, or Spaniards if they could be fallen in with. Waymouth, especially, found that he had a very mutinously inclined crew to deal with. Who was the chief instigator he determined to discover, in the hope that by punishing him he might bring the rest under better discipline.
The officer next in command to him was Miles Carlingford, an honest, straight-forward seaman, on whom he knew that he could depend as well as he could on Master Walker and the surgeon Ap Reece as to faithfulness; but Master Walker was a non-combatant, and would be averse to any stringent measures; and Ap Reece, from his hot-headed impetuosity, would be likely to betray any counsel with which he was intrusted.
Captain Wood had brought two cabin-boys with him – or, as they would now be called, midshipmen – and these he had left under Waymouth’s especial care. Poor fellows! early indeed were they to be initiated into the stern realities of life. It would have been difficult to find a stronger contrast than between the two lads, and yet they were great friends. The eldest, Alfred Stanhope, was of high birth, of which he was fully conscious. He was refined in appearance and manners, and was light-hearted and gay in the extreme. He was never out of spirits or out of humour, and was utterly indifferent to danger. His talents, however, were not great, and the knowledge he did possess was very superficial. His father was a spendthrift and a ruined man, and had allowed him to come to sea in the hope of his being provided for in one way or another.
His companion, Oliver Marston, was the son of a stout English yeoman to whom Captain Wood’s family was under some obligations, and, as a way of repaying him, he had offered to take Oliver, one of ten sons, on an adventure through which he would be certain to secure his fortune. The lad, though he had never seen a ship except worked on tapestry, had no objection to go to sea. He was a short, stout, strongly-built little fellow, able to hold his own with all competitors. While poor Alfred Stanhope had been nurtured in the lap of luxury, Oliver had been brought up in the roughest style, and was therefore much better able than his companion to buffet with the storms of life they were doomed to encounter. He had much more sense and shrewdness in his round little head than might have been supposed, while all about him was sterling stuff of the toughest nature, except his heart, in one respect, and that was as soft and gentle as that of a true sailor is said to be. Oliver was a favourite with Waymouth, who, though he did not spoil him, encouraged him to speak more openly to him than he allowed any one else to do except Master Walker.
It was night. Waymouth was seated in his cabin. A lamp hung from the beam above, the light of which fell on a chart he was anxiously scanning. Unwonted cares oppressed even his buoyant spirit. His ship had suffered much; he had a large amount of wealth on board; his crew was much weakened, some were disaffected, and he was about to enter seas difficult of navigation, and where typhoons might be expected. He mourned, too, his friend Raymond’s loss, though he did not believe that he was dead, but that he had been carried off a prisoner by the enemy. Still, how could he hear of him, and how rescue him if he was a prisoner? He fell into a reverie. He was aroused by the sentry at the announcement that an officer wished to see him.
“Let him come,” was the answer; and Oliver Marston stood before him.
“What now, Oliver?” asked the captain.
“You know, Captain Waymouth, that I am not a tale-bearer; but I’ve just heard some matters which I bethought me I ought to convey to you without delay,” answered Marston. “There’s mutiny in the ship, sir, or what may come to worse.”
“Ah! how come you to know that, boy?” asked the captain anxiously, for the announcement somewhat confirmed his own suspicions.
The youngster answered promptly – “It is my first watch, sir, and as I had no fancy for turning in for a short time, I lay down for a snooze on a chest outside the boatswain’s cabin. I was afraid of oversleeping myself, so quickly awoke, and was about to jump up, when I heard voices near me. The words were spoken in an undertone, as if the speakers desired not to be overheard. Who the speakers were, I am not certain; they talked of the wealth that was on board, and how you and the other captains would get the lion’s share, but that if they acted with spirit and stuck together they might have the whole of it.”
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