Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth by - (best books to read for self development TXT) 📕

and leave open complaining to ribalds and women. For if the sailor be not cheered by his commander's cheerfulness, how will the ignorant man find comfort in himself? And without faith and hope, how can he fight worthily?”

“There is no croaking aboard of us, we will warrant,” said twenty voices, “and shall be none, as long as we command on board our own ships.”

Hawkins, having blown off his steam, went back to Drake and the bowls.

“Fill my pipe, Drawer—that croaking fellow's made me let it out, of course! Spoil-sports! The father of all manner of troubles on earth, be they noxious trade of croakers! 'Better to meet a bear robbed of her whelps,' Francis Drake, as Solomon saith, than a fule who can't keep his mouth shut. What brought Mr. Andrew Barker to his death but croakers? What stopped Fenton's China voyage in the '82, and lost your nephew John, and my brother Will, glory and hard cash too, but croakers? What sent back my Lord Cumberland's armada in the '86, and that after they'd proved their strength, too, sixty o' mun against six hundred Portugals and Indians; and yet wern't ashamed to turn round and come home empty-handed, after all my lord's expenses that he had been at? What but these same beggarly croakers, that be only fit to be turned into yellow-hammers up to Dartymoor, and sit on a tor all day, and cry 'Very little bit of bread, and no chee-e-ese!' Marry, sneak-up! say I again.”

“And what,” said Drake, “would have kept me, if I'd let 'em, from ever sailing round the world, but these same croakers? I hanged my best friend for croaking, John Hawkins, may God forgive me if I was wrong, and I threatened a week after to hang thirty more; and I'd have done it, too, if they hadn't clapped tompions into their muzzles pretty fast.”

“You'm right, Frank. My old father always told me—and old King Hal (bless his memory!) would take his counsel among a thousand;—'And, my son,' says he to me, 'whatever you do, never you stand no croaking; but hang mun, son Jack, hang mun up for an ensign. There's Scripture for it,' says he (he was a mighty man to his Bible, after bloody Mary's days, leastwise), 'and 'tis written,' says he, 'It's expedient that one man die for the crew, and that the whole crew perish not; so show you no mercy, son Jack, or you'll find none, least-wise in they manner of cattle; for if you fail, they stamps on you, and if you succeeds, they takes the credit of it to themselves, and goes to heaven in your shoes.' Those were his words, and I've found mun true.—Who com'th here now?”

“Captain Fleming, as I'm a sinner.”

“Fleming? Is he tired of life, that he com'th here to look for a halter? I've a warrant out against mun, for robbing of two Flushingers on the high seas, now this very last year. Is the fellow mazed or drunk, then? or has he seen a ghost? Look to mun!”

“I think so, truly,” said Drake. “His eyes are near out of his head.”

The man was a rough-bearded old sea-dog, who had just burst in from the tavern through the low hatch, upsetting a drawer with all his glasses, and now came panting and blowing straight up to the high admiral,—

“My lord, my lord! They'm coming! I saw them off the Lizard last night!”

“Who? my good sir, who seem to have left your manners behind you.”

“The Armada, your worship—the Spaniard; but as for my manners, 'tis no fault of mine, for I never had none to leave behind me.”

“If he has not left his manners behind,” quoth Hawkins, “look out for your purses, gentlemen all! He's manners enough, and very bad ones they be, when he com'th across a quiet Flushinger.”

“If I stole Flushingers' wines, I never stole negurs' souls, Jack Hawkins; so there's your answer. My lord, hang me if you will; life's short and death's easy 'specially to seamen; but if I didn't see the Spanish fleet last sun-down, coming along half-moon wise, and full seven mile from wing to wing, within a four mile of me, I'm a sinner.”

“Sirrah,” said Lord Howard, “is this no fetch, to cheat us out of your pardon for these piracies of yours?”

“You'll find out for yourself before nightfall, my lord high admiral. All Jack Fleming says is, that this is a poor sort of an answer to a man who has put his own neck into the halter for the sake of his country.”

“Perhaps it is,” said Lord Howard. “And after all, gentlemen, what can this man gain by a lie, which must be discovered ere a day is over, except a more certain hanging?”

“Very true, your lordship,” said Hawkins, mollified. “Come here, Jack Fleming—what wilt drain, man? Hippocras or Alicant, Sack or John Barleycorn, and a pledge to thy repentance and amendment of life.”

“Admiral Hawkins, Admiral Hawkins, this is no time for drinking.”

“Why not, then, my lord? Good news should be welcomed with good wine. Frank, send down to the sexton, and set the bells a-ringing to cheer up all honest hearts. Why, my lord, if it were not for the gravity of my office, I could dance a galliard for joy!”

“Well, you may dance, port admiral: but I must go and plan, but God give to all captains such a heart as yours this day!”

“And God give all generals such a head as yours! Come, Frank Drake, we'll play the game out before we move. It will be two good days before we shall be fit to tackle them, so an odd half-hour don't matter.”

“I must command the help of your counsel, vice-admiral,” said Lord Charles, turning to Drake.

“And it's this, my good lord,” said Drake, looking up, as he aimed his bowl. “They'll come soon enough for us to show them sport, and yet slow enough for us to be ready; so let no man hurry himself. And as example is better than precept, here goes.”

Lord Howard shrugged his shoulders, and departed, knowing two things: first, that to move Drake was to move mountains; and next, that when the self-taught hero did bestir himself, he would do more work in an hour than any one else in a day. So he departed, followed hastily by most of the captains; and Drake said in a low voice to Hawkins:

“Does he think we are going to knock about on a lee-shore all the afternoon and run our noses at night—and dead up-wind, too—into the Dons' mouths? No, Jack, my friend. Let Orlando-Furioso-punctilio-fire- eaters go and get their knuckles rapped. The following game is the game, and not the meeting one. The dog goes after the sheep, and not afore them, lad. Let them go by, and go by, and stick to them well to windward, and pick up stragglers, and pickings, too, Jack—the prizes, Jack!”

“Trust my old eyes for not being over-quick at seeing signals, if I be hanging in the skirts of a fat-looking Don. We'm the eagles, Drake; and where the carcase is, is our place, eh?”

And so the two old sea-dogs chatted on, while their companions dropped off one by one, and only Amyas remained.