“I would gladly try to make my own way in the world.”
“You didn’t enjoy your time with Chudleigh MicheH. What other employment is there?”
“Can I be found something with one of my uncles in Westminster or London? You have given me your name. That should be of value: I can work, I’m not without aptitude.”
My father put down the scissors and dabbed some pomade on his moustache. “There’s something to be said for your idea, especially at this time. I did my best to clear up the fuss about the Irish ship, but no one’s satisfied and they’re still threatening me with Ferdinando Gorges. If he comes it would be of benefit if you were far away. These Penryn prattlers can do much less harm if the object of their prattle is not to be found.”
“I’d like to go soon, sir.”
He turned. “Why, what’s pricking you? Have you been up to some new prank?”
“No, sir, I assure you.”
“God help you if you have, for I’ll stand for no more.”
I spent the afternoon duck shooting with Belemus beyond the swan pool, and after we came home I lingered in one of the barns helping to bale the wool ready for the Webster, and so hoping to avoid Meg. I was the last to go in, and suddenly Dick Stable was in the doorway waiting for me. I greeted him casually but he did not answer, then abruptly he began to talk to me in such a stumbling voice that only a sentence here and there was audible.
Some one had dropped a word or else he had grown suspicious himself; this was the outcome; half minatory, half supplicant; Dick had scarcely ever quarrelled with anyone in his life, and he was vastly aware of the difference in our station. The break of laughter never absent from his voice when he spoke was still there, but it was the laughter of a child which is hurt; sometimes near tears and sometimes near rage. His voice and manner deferred while his words accused.
I was oppressed suddenly with a bitter rage in which the hopeless futility and wrongness of everything in the world choked me. I got up from among the bales, and Dick moved suddenly as if he thought he was to be hit.
“What old wife,” I said, “has been pouring her evil thoughts in your ear? I thought you’d recovered from your cracked head.”
He laughed nervously. “Nay, the story’s abroad for all to hear as will. Maybe as always it carries last to ‘im as it most consarns. If ye “
I put my hand on his shoulder and spun him round. Again he half lifted his hands in defence. “Listen, dolt. You were sick, out of your senses for weeks, months. Meg was halfcrazed herself with worry. We thought you’d maybe sit whittling sticks on your stool for ten or fifteen years. Who was to know? We tried everything. I went to the Footmarker witch in Truro; Meg went to old Sarah Pound at Menehay and borrowed her moonstone; it was under your pallet for a week; are those the acts of a wife and friend behaving lewdly together while your mind is closed?”
“Aye, but “
“Hear me out. I have seen much of Meg: I admit it. So I did before ever you married her. We used to kiss and be a thought familiar before I was 15. But that’s different from what you are now vilely thinking. You don’t realise what a splendid wife you have in Meg. You do not. I’m telling you.
She was that worried for you, that rejoiced when you began to recover. While you were sick I saw much of her, I agree; we spent much time together as I have said, contriving how you might be aided back to health. Sometimes she would be deeply worried and in need of comfort. If I essayed to comfort her you need not entertain lewd thoughts on that account.”
“I’m told you was seen creeping up to one of they attic rooms “
“Listen again! I do not creep anywhere. If I go I go openly. Show me the man or woman who told you that!”
“Nay, I wouldn’t listen t’every tale. But twas common thought “
“All right, it was common thought. And common thought has erred. D’you understand me?”
He blinked and then stared into my eyes. “Aye, I understand, Master Maugan. I’ve no wish to offend ye. If so be I’ve mistook it all then I ask pardon. But Meg ‘erself, Meg ‘erself do appear different, changed. I think maybe she be no longer a-love with me.”
Hating the world, I put my arm round his shoulders. “Listen once again, Dick, and this time most careful. I’ve known Meg longer even than you, and I tell you she cares for you deeply. But she is a romantic girl, none more so, and love to her is something serious and romantical, not to be laughed at or jested over. Beware of your laughter. Suppress it. Take her serious, be moved by love, be moved by her. She’s a comely girl, Dick, young and full of spirit. I have not stole her from you, but another may if you don’t take care. Woo her. It’s not so tedious a thing to do. Nor is it so hard. Don’t imagine that you are foolish to gentle and flatter her; think of the prize. Her love. Her surrender.”
He nodded his head, taking in perhaps one word in three but taking, I prayed to God, the general meaning. We walked together, lover and cuckold, towards the house like old friends.
That night two ships anchored in Falmouth Haven. We knew they were English by their build and signs. My father said it was likely to be a part of the Drake and Hawkins fleet: they had no doubt suffered from the general adverse winds and been scattered, so were returning for shelter and rest. We watched them carefully through the night lest this should be a trick and they were roving Spaniards in disguise. Presently there came up one of those rare jewelled dawns which made the
blue light on the river seem like some new and magic sky, and we were able to study in more detail the high poop of the larger vessel.
When a little pinnacebrought its master ashore we found it was Ralegh back from his trip to El Dorado.
CHAPTER NINE
He was as thin as a board, his handsome velvet suit hanging on him, his skin burned Indian brown by tropical suns. But he was well and abounding with vigour. So were his crews, such as were left; they brought no sickness, only tales of wondrous things.
Many had died, most in combat, including John Grenville, the great Sir Richard’s second son, Captain Calfield, the senior naval officer, and Captain Thynne, commander of another barque. It was thought that about eighty were left of the seven score gentlemen volunteers, and crews overall had been reduced by a third. It was not possible to be certain, for this arrival in Falmouth constituted only half the force.
But their worst losses were six weeks behind them, they had had fair winds home and now were happy to be back. Sir Walter’s first act on reaching Arwenack was to write to his wife and send it post telling her of his safety. He wanted to rest here with his crews for two days to recover, then he would ride overland to Sherborne and let the captains bring the barques to Portsmouth.
My father made him and his gentlemen welcome. As many of the crews as could lie under his roof were also welcome the rest must stay aboard or be put up at the only other house near by, the Gwythers at Three Farthings House, at the mouth of Penryn Creek. (One never asked favours of Penryn town.)
My father was all agog for news of prizes they had taken he clearly had thoughts of another Madre de Dios capture and himself being the first to benefit but on this Ralegh was disappointing. They had taken no prizes, no prizes which would rank as such; they had gained no great naval victory; they had on the way home raided and destroyed three Spanish settlements it was here that nearly all the casualties had come on them. But all this paled before the significance of their attempt and near success in finding El Dorado.