The Cruise of the Nonsuch Buccaneer | Page 8

regard to the safety of Hubert, her elder son, temporarily allayed by George's optimism, were quick to respond to the slightest hint or suggestion of disaster; the mere mention, therefore, of a man, foreign-looking and of sailorly aspect, seeking speech with her, and especially at such an untimely hour, was sufficient to re-awaken all her unformed fears into full activity. Her lips blanched and a look of terror leapt into her eyes as she sprang to her feet, regarding the somewhat stolid Lucy as though the latter were some apparition of ill omen.
"A sailor, say you, strange, and foreign-looking?" she gasped. "What for mercy's sake can such a man want with me at this time of night? Did you ask the man his name?"
"No, ma'am, I--I--didn't," stammered the maid, astonished at her mistress's unusual agitation, and afraid that in omitting to make the enquiry she had been guilty of some terrible oversight; "he said--he--"
But at this point George intervened. To him, as to his mother, the circumstance had at once conveyed a suggestion of ominousness, a hint of possible evil tidings. Like his mother, he had risen to his feet as the thought of what this visit might mean dawned upon him. But, unlike Mrs Saint Leger, he was accustomed to act quickly in the presence of sudden alarms, and now he laid his hand reassuringly upon his mother's shoulder, as he said soothingly:
"There, there, sit you down, mother; there's nought to be frightened about, I'll warrant. Sit you down, again; and I'll go out and speak to the fellow. Maybe 'tis but some sneaking, snivelling beggar-man who, believing you to be alone here, hopes to terrify you into giving him a substantial alms."
So saying, with another reassuring pat upon his mother's shoulder, the lad stalked out of the room, pushing the bewildered maid before him, and made his way to the front door, where Mrs Saint Leger, acutely listening, presently heard him in low converse with the stranger. The conversation continued for a full ten minutes, and then Mrs Saint Leger's apprehensions were sharpened by hearing footsteps--her son's and another's--approaching the room in which she sat. A moment later the door was flung open, and George, pale beneath his tan, re-appeared, ushering in a thick-set, broadly-built man of medium height, whose long, unkempt hair and beard, famine-sharpened features, and ragged clothing told an unmistakable tale of privation and suffering.
"Mother," said George--and as he spoke his lips quivered slightly in spite of his utmost efforts to keep them steady--"this man is Robert Dyer of Cawsand, one of the crew of the Judith, Captain Drake's ship, just arrived from the Indies, and he brings us bad news--not the worst, thank God," he interjected hurriedly as he noted Mrs Saint Leger's sudden access of pallor--"but bad enough for all that, and it is necessary that you should hear it. The expedition has been a failure, thanks to Spanish treachery; the loss to the English has been terribly heavy, and several of the men are missing."
For a few moments the poor distracted mother strove vainly to speak; then, clutching George's arm tightly, she moaned: "Well, why do you pause, George? Tell me the worst, I pray you. I can bear it. Do not keep me in suspense. Do you wish me to understand that Hubert is killed--or is he among the missing? He must be one or the other, I know, or he would be here now to tell his own story."
"He is a prisoner in the hands of the Spaniards, mother," answered George. "But be of good cheer," he continued, as Mrs Saint Leger staggered like one struck and he sprang to her assistance--"sit you down, mother, and let Dyer here tell us his story. I have only just heard the barest outline of it. Perhaps when we have heard it all it may not seem so bad. And don't you fear for Hubert, dearie; 'tis true that the Spaniards have got him, but they won't dare to hurt him, be you assured of that; and likely enough he will have escaped by this time. Now, Dyer, come to an anchor, man, and tell us all that befell. And while you're talking we'll have some supper prepared for you."
"Well, madam, and Mr Garge, there ain't so very much to tell," answered Dyer, seating himself in the chair which Saint Leger had indicated. "Of course you do both know--all Plymouth knows--that we sailed away from this very port a year ago come the second o' last October. Six ships strong, we was, well manned, and an abundance o' munitions o' war of every kind, even to shore-artillery. And we had Cap'n John Hawkins for our admiral and Frank Drake for our pilot, so what more could a body want?
"We made a very good