In the Days of Drake. Fletcher Joseph Smith
I fear thee not, and I know not why I should trouble to talk to thee. But thou seemest to be in authority.”
“’Tis Sir Thurstan’s nephew,” whispered the constable.
“What know I of Sir Thurstan? Young sir, I am a man of Cornwall, and my name it is Pharaoh Nanjulian. They know me in Marazion. I have been on a venture to the North Seas – plague take it, there is naught but ice and snow there, with white bears twenty feet long – ”
“List to him!” said someone in the crowd.
“I will show thee the white bear’s trick, an’ thou doubtest me. But to proceed. Young sir, we were wrecked – sixteen good men and true we were – off the Norroway coasts, which methinks are fashioned of iron, and we underwent trials, yea, and hunger. After a time we came to Drontheim – ”
“Where is that?”
“A sea-coast town of Norroway, young sir. And thence we took ship to Scarborough. But there was no ship at Scarborough going south, wherefore I set out for mine own country on foot. And to-day, which is my first on this journey, I came to this inn for a pint of good ale, and paid my money for it too, whereupon yonder scurvy knave gives me small beer, thin as water. And I, being somewhat hot and choleric of temper, threw the measure at him, and rewarded him for his insolence. So now I will go on my way, for ’tis a brave step from here to Marazion, and I love not ye north-country folk.”
“Not so fast,” quoth John Broad. “Thou must needs see Sir Thurstan before we let thee go.”
“What want I with Sir Thurstan?”
“Marry, naught; but he may want something with thee. We allow not that wandering rascals shall break the peace in our village.”
“If thou talkest to me like that, Master Constable, I shall break thy head, and in such a fashion that thou wilt never more know what peace is. We men of Devon and Cornwall allow no man to lord it over us.”
“Thou shalt to Sir Thurstan, anyhow,” said John Broad. “We will see what the law says to thee. I fear me thou art a man of lawless behavior; and, moreover, there are strange characters about at this moment.”
“Dame Good had two fowls stolen last night,” said a voice in the crowd.
“Yea, and there are two fine linen sheets stolen from the vicarage hedge,” piped another.
“He looks a strange mortal,” said a third.
“And wears gold rings in his ears,” cried a fourth. “A’ must be a foreigner, and maybe a Papist.”
“Foreigner or Papist I am not, good folks, but a true-born Englishman, and a good hater of all Frenchmen and Spaniards. So let me go forward peaceably. As for the clout I gave Master Peter, here is a groat to mend it. I have but a round dozen, or I would give him two.”
With that he would have moved forward, but John Broad barred the way.
“Not till I have taken thee before his worship,” said he. “What, am I not constable of this parish, and duly sworn to arrest all suspicious persons, sturdy beggars, and what not?”
The sailor paused and drew his breath, and looked at the constable’s round figure as if in doubt what to do.
“I am loth to hurt thee,” said he, “but if I hit thee, Master Constable, thou wilt never more drink ale nor smell beef. Know that once in Palermo there came upon me a great brown bear that had got loose from his ward, and I hit him fair and square between the eyes, and he fell, and when they took him up, his skull it was cracked. Is thy skull harder than the bear’s?”
At this John Broad trembled and shrank away, but continued to mutter something about the law and its majesty.
“You had better go with him before my uncle,” said I. “He will deal justly with thee. He is hard upon no man, but it might fare ill with John Broad if Sir Thurstan knew that he had suffered you to go unapprehended.”
“Oh, if you put it in that way,” he answered, and turned again, “I will go with you. Heaven send that the good gentleman do not detain me, for I would fain reach York to-night.”
So we all moved off to the manor, and as many as could find room crowded into the great hall where Sir Thurstan sat to deliver judgment on all naughty and evilly-disposed persons. And presently he came and took his seat in the justice-chair and commanded silence, and bade John Broad state his case. Then Peter Pipe gave his testimony, and likewise Geoffrey Scales, and then Sir Thurstan called upon the sailor to have his say, for he made a practice of never condemning any man unheard.
After he had heard them all, my uncle considered matters for a moment and then delivered judgment, during which everybody preserved strict silence.
“I find, first of all,” said he, “that Peter Pipe, the drawer, did serve this man with small beer instead of good ale. For what! I watched the man as he told his story, and he did not lie.”
“I thank your honor,” said the sailor.
“Wherefore I recommend Geoffrey Scales to admonish Peter at his convenience – ”
“Yea, and with a stick, your honor,” said Geoffrey.
“So that he transgress not again. Nevertheless, the sailor did wrong to maltreat Peter. There is law to be had, and no man should administer his own justice. Wherefore I fine thee, sailor, and order thee to pay ten groats to the court.”
“As your honor wills,” said the man, and handed over the money. “I have now one left to see me all the way to Marazion. But justice is justice.”
“Clear my hall, John Broad,” said my uncle. This order the constable carried out with promptitude. But when the sailor would have gone, Sir Thurstan bade him stay, and presently he called him to his side and held converse with him.
“Dost thou propose to walk to Marazion?” he asked.
“With God’s help, sir,” answered the man.
“Why not try Hull? Thou mightest find a ship there for a southern port.”
“I had never thought of it, your honor. How far away may Hull be?”
“Forty miles. What means hast thou?”
“But one groat, sir. But then I have become used to hardships.”
“Try Hull: thou wilt find a ship there, I doubt not. Hold, here are twelve shillings for thee. Humphrey, have him to the kitchen and give him a good meal ere he starts.”
“Your honor,” said the sailor, “is a father and a brother to me. I shall not forget.”
“Do thy duty,” said Sir Thurstan.
So I took the man to the kitchen, and fed him, and soon he went away.
“Young master,” said he, “if I can ever repay this kindness I will, yea, with interest. Pharaoh Nanjulian never forgets.”
With that he went away, and we saw him no more.
CHAPTER III.
ROSE
There being no disposition on my part to renew our differences, and none on his to lead up to an open rupture, my cousin Jasper Stapleton and I got on together very well, until we had reached the age of nineteen years, when a new and far more important matter of contention arose between us.
Now, our first quarrel had arisen over the ultimate disposition of my uncle’s estates; our second was as to which should be lord over the heart and hand of a fair maiden. To both of us the second quarrel was far more serious than the first – which is a thing that will readily be understood by all young folks. It seemed to both of us that not all the broad acres of Beechcot, nay, of Yorkshire itself, were to be reckoned in comparison with the little hand of Mistress Rose Herrick.
For by that time Mistress Rose had grown to be a fair and gracious maiden, whose golden hair, floating from under her dainty cap, was a dangerous snare for any hot-hearted lad’s thoughts to fall entangled in. So sweet and gracious was she, so delightful her conversation, so bewitching her