"Now the ladies," he said in a quick, authoritative voice.

Elizabeth came up to the side, and then it was the question of Madame La Motte. John Hull stood in the tossing, heaving wherry, and gave the woman her first impetus. She clawed the side ropes, cursing and spitting like a cat as she did so, mounting the low waist of the ship like a great black slug. As soon as she got within arm's length of the captain and a couple of sailors, they caught her and heaved her on board as if she had been a sack, and within ten seconds afterwards John Hull, with the leather bag over his shoulder, stood on the deck beside them.

Johnnie felt in his pocket and found some coins there. He flung them over to the watermen, and they fell in the centre of the boat as it sheered off.

Mr. Clark, captain of the _St. Iago_, was now very wide awake.

"I will thank ye, Madame," he said, "to explain your boarding of my ship with your friends."

The quick-witted Frenchwoman went up to him, put her fat arms round his neck, pulled his head down, and spoke in his ear for a minute. When she had finished the captain raised his head, scratched his ear, and looked doubtfully at Commendone, Elizabeth, and John Hull.

"Well," he said, in a thick voice, "since you say it, I suppose I must, though there is little accommodation on board for the likes of you. You pay your pa.s.sage, Madame, I suppose?"

"Phut! I will make you rich."

The captain's eyes contracted with leery cunning.

"There is more in this than meets mine eye--that ye should be so eager to leave London. What have ye done, that is what I would like to know? I must inquire into this, though we are due to sail. I must send a man ash.o.r.e to speak with the Sheriff----"

"The Sheriff! And where would any of your dirty sailors find the Sheriff at this hour of the morning? You'll lose the tide, Master Clark, and you'll lose your money, too."

The captain scratched his head again.

"Natheless, I am not sure," he began.

Then Johnnie stepped forward.

"Captain Clark?" he said, in short, quick accents of authority.

"That am I," said the captain.

"Very good. Then you will take these ladies and bestow them as well as you are able, and you will set sail at once. This ship, I believe, belongs to His Worship the Alderman, Master Robert Cressemer?"

The captain touched his forehead.

"Yes, sir, indeed she does," he answered, in a very different voice.

Johnnie, from where he had been standing, had looked down into the waist, and had seen the great bags of wool with the Alderman's trade-mark upon them. "Very well," he said, "you'll heave anchor at once, and this is my warrant."

He put his hand into his doublet and pulled out the Alderman's letter.

He showed him the last paragraph of it.

It was enough.

"I crave your pardon, master," the captain said. "I did not know that you came from His Worship. That old Moll, I was ready to oblige her, though it seemed a queer thing her coming aboard just as we were setting sail. Why did you not speak at first, sir? Well, all is right. The wind is favourable, and off we go."

Turning away from Johnnie, he rushed up to the p.o.o.p again, put his hand to his mouth, and bellowed out a crescendo of orders.

The yards swarmed with men, there was a "Heave ho and a rumbelow," a clanking of the winch as the anchor came up, a flapping of unfurled topsails at the three square-rigged masts, and in five minutes more the _St. Iago_ began to move down the river.

Johnnie walked along the open planking of the waist, mounted to the p.o.o.p, and heard the "lap, lap" and ripple of the river waves against the rudder. He turned and saw not far away to his left the White Tower growing momentarily more distinct and clear in the dawn.

The whole of the Palace and Citadel was clear to view, the two flags of England and Spain were just hoisted, running out before the breeze. To his left, as he turned right round, were huddled houses at the southern end of London Bridge. In one of them, empty, lit and blown through by the morning winds, His Most Catholic Majesty was lying, silent and helpless.

He turned again, looked forward, and took in a great breath of the salt air.

The cordage began to creak, the sails to belly out, the hoa.r.s.e voice of the pilot by Johnnie's side to call directions. Presently Sheppey Island came into view, and the sky above it was all streaked with the promise of daylight.

Regardless of Captain Clark and two other men, who were busied coiling ropes and making the p.o.o.p ship-shape for the Channel, Johnnie fell upon his knees, brought the cross-belt of the King's sword to his lips, and thanked G.o.d that he was away with his love.

CHAPTER VIII

"WHY, WHO BUT YOU, JOHNNIE!"

Three weeks and two days had pa.s.sed, and the _St. Iago_ was off Lisbon, and at anchor.

The sun beat down upon the decks, the pitch bubbled in the seams, but now and then a cool breeze came off the land. The city with its long white terraces of houses shimmered in a haze of heat, but on the west side of the valley in which the city lay, the florid gothic of the great church of St. Jerome, built just five-and-fifty years before, was perfectly clear-cut against the sapphire sky--burnt into a vast enamel of blue, it seemed; bright grey upon blue, with here and there a twinkling spot of gold crowning the towers.

Twenty-three days the ship had taken to cut through the long oily Atlantic swell and come to port. There had been no rough winds in the Bay, no tempests such as make it terrible for mariners at other times of the year.

When they had arrived on board, and the ship had got out of the Thames, none of the four fugitives had the slightest idea as to where they were going--Madame La Motte least of all. The relief at their escape had been too great; strangely enough, they had not even enquired.

The old Frenchwoman, as soon as the ship was under way, and Captain Clark could attend to her, had gone below with him for half an hour; while Johnnie, Hull, and Elizabeth remained upon the p.o.o.p.

When La Motte returned, the captain was smiling. There was a genial twinkle in his eye. He came up to the others in a very friendly fashion.

"S'death," he said, "I am in luck's way. Here you are, Master Commendone, that are my owner's friend and bear a letter from him; and here is Mistress La Motte, whom I have known long agone. By carrying ye to Cadiz I shall be earning the Alderman's grat.i.tude, and also good red coins of the Mint, which Madame hath now paid me."

"Cadiz?" Johnnie said. "Cadiz in Spain?"

"That fair city and none other," the captain answered. "Heaven favouring us, we shall bowl along to the city of wine, of fruit, and of fish. You shall sip the sherries of Jerez and San Lucar, and eke taste the soup of lobsters--langosta, they call it--and _bouillabaisse_ in the southern parts of France--upon the island of San Leon, where the folk do go upon a Sunday for that refection. But now come you down below and see to your quarters. I have given up my cabin to the ladies, and you, sir," he turned to Johnnie, "must turn in with me, to which end I have commandeered the cabin of Master Mew, that is my chief officer, and a merry fellow from the Isle of Wight, who will sing you a right good catch of an evening, I'll warrant. And as for this your servant, the bo'son will look to him, and he will not be among the men."

They had gone below, and everything was arranged accordingly. The quarters were more comfortable than Commendone had expected, and as far as this part of the expedition was concerned all was well.

Nevertheless, as Johnnie came up again upon the p.o.o.p with the captain, he was in great perturbation. They were sailing to Spain! To the very country which was ruled by the man he had so evilly entreated. Might it not well be that, escaping Scylla, they were sailing into the whirlpool of Charybdis?

The captain seemed to divine something of the young man's thoughts. He sat down upon a coil of rope and looked upward with a shrewd and weather-beaten eye.

"Look you here, master," he said. "Why you came aboard my ship I know not. You caught me as I was weighing anchor. Thou art a gentleman of condition, and yet you come aboard with no mails, and nothing but that in which you stand up. And you come aboard in company with that old Moll of Flanders, La Motte--no fit company for a gentleman upon a voyage. And furthermore, you have with you a young and well-looking lady, who also hath no baggage with her. I tell you truly that I would not have shipped you all had it not been for the letter of His Worship the Alderman--whose hand of write I know very well upon bills of lading and such. I like the look of you, and as Madame there has paid me well, 'tis no business of mine what you are doing or have done. But look you here, if that pretty young mistress is being forced to come with you against her will--and what else can I think when I see her in the company of old Moll?--then I will be a party to nothing of the sort. I am not a married man, not regular church-sworn, that is, though I have a woman friend or two in this port or that. And moreover, I have been oft-times to visit the house with the red door. So you'll see I am no Puritan. But at the same time I will be no help to the ravishing of maids of gentle blood, and that I ask you well to believe, master."

Johnnie heard him patiently to the end.

"Let me tell you this, captain," he said, "that in what I am doing there is no harm of any sort. Mistress Taylor, which is the name of the younger lady, is the ward of Mr. Robert Cressemer. The Alderman is my very good friend. My father, Sir Henry Commendone, of Commendone in Kent, is his constant friend and correspondent. The young lady was taken away yesterday from her guardian's care, taken in secret by some one high about the Court--from which I also come, being a Gentleman in the following of King Philip. Late last night, I received a letter from the Alderman, telling me of this, upon which I and my servant immediately set out for where we thought to find the stolen lady, in that we might rescue her. She had been taken, shame that it should be said, to the house of Madame La Motte in Duck Lane. From there we took her, but in the taking I slew a most unknightly knight of the Court, and offered a grave indignity to one placed even more highly than he was. Of necessity, therefore, we fled from that ill-famed house. Madame La Motte brought us to your ship, knowing you. Her we had to take with us, for if not, vengeance would doubtless have fallen upon her for what I did. And that, Captain Clark, is my whole story. As regards the future, Madame La Motte, you say, hath paid you well. I have no money with me, but I am the son of a rich man, and moreover, I can draw upon Mr. Cressemer for anything I require. Gin you take us safely to Cadiz, I will give you such a letter to the Alderman as will ensure your promotion in his service, and will also be productive of a sum of money for you. I well know that Master Cressemer would give a bag of ducats more than you could lift, to secure the safety of Mistress Taylor."