The Settlers.

by William H. G. Kingston.

CHAPTER ONE.

The abode of Captain Amyas Layton overlooked the whole of Plymouth Sound. It stood on the eastern side near its northern end, on the wood-covered heights which rise above that magnificent estuary. From the windows could be seen the town of Plymouth, with its inner harbour, on which floated many a stout bark of varied rig and size; some engaged in the coasting trade, others just arrived from foreign voyages, and others destined to carry the flag of England to far-off lands. In front of the house had been set up a tall flagstaff, which the captain was wont on high days and holidays to deck with gay banners, or at other times to employ in making signals to vessels in the Sound. The grounds were surrounded by a moat with a drawbridge, above which was a gateway adorned with curiously carved images once serving as the figure-heads of two Spanish galleys. The house itself, constructed chiefly of a framework of ma.s.sive timber, filled in with stone or brick, had no pretensions to architectural beauty, albeit its wide, projecting eaves, its large chimneys, and latticed windows, with its neat, well-kept garden full of gay flowers, gave it a picturesque and quaint appearance.

Above the low wall on the inner side of the moat, was planted a battery of bra.s.s cannon, elaborately ornamented, and evidently also taken from the Spaniards; though they were placed there as trophies of victories won rather than for use. In truth, the old seaman's dwelling, full as it was of many other warlike engines, had no pretensions to the character of a fortress; it had been his fancy to gather within its walls the spoils of many a hard-fought fight to remind him of days gone by, especially when he had sailed out of Plymouth Sound in his stout bark in company with the gallant Lord Howard, Drake, Frobisher, Hawkins, and other brave seamen whose names are known to fame, to make fierce onslaught on the vaunting Spaniards, as their proud Armada swept up the Channel. The porch at the front entrance was adorned with Spanish handiwork--a portion of the stern-gallery of the huge _Saint Nicholas_; while at each corner of the building were fixed other parts of that mighty galleon, or of some other ship of the many which had been, by G.o.d's good providence, delivered into the hands of those whom the haughty Spaniards came vainly threatening to enslave.

The house contained a good-sized dining-hall. At one end was a broad fireplace, and mantelpiece supported by richly carved figures, also taken from the stern-gallery of a Spanish bark. Above it appeared the model of the _Golden Lion_, the captain's own ship. The walls were adorned with breastplates and morions, swords and matchlocks, huge pistols, with other weapons of curious form, and three banners captured from the foe, regarded by the captain as the chiefest of his trophies.

Here, too, were also bows and arrows, spears and clubs, and various implements, remembrances of the last voyage he had made to America.

The captain was walking to and fro in the shade. In his hand was a long pipe with a huge bowl, from which he ever and anon sucked up a mouthful of smoke, which, as he again puffed it out, rose in light wreaths above his head. Sometimes, as he sent them forth slowly, now from one side of his mouth, now from the other, as a ship fires her broadsides at her foes, he would stop and gaze at the vanishing vapour, his thoughts apparently wandering to distant times and regions far away, now taking a glance down the Sound to watch for any tall ship which might be coming up from the westward, now looking along the road.

His countenance, though that of a man still hale and hearty, showed signs of many a hard fight with human foes and fierce storms, as far as it could be distinguished amid the curling locks which hung down from beneath the low-crowned hat adorned by a single feather, and the bushy beard and long mustachios still but slightly grizzled. His doublet and cloak were richly embroidered, though the gold lace was somewhat tarnished; his breeches, fastened at the knee, were of ample proportions, while boots of buskin form encased his feet. A man of war from his youth, though enjoying his ease, he even now wore girded to his side his trusty sword without which he was never known to stir outside his door.

At length he stopped; as his eye glanced along the road leading from Plymouth. "Marry, who can those be coming up the hill?" he said to himself. "They seem to be making for this--a well-grown youth and a youngster--by their habits and appearance they are I judge of gentle birth." As he spoke, the captain advanced towards the gateway to give the young strangers a welcome, should it be their purpose to pay him a visit. The elder was of a tall and graceful figure, with delicate features, a slight moustache appearing on his lip; his habit, that of a gallant of the day, though modest and free from extravagance.

The younger was of a stronger build; his countenance exhibiting a bold and daring spirit, full of life and animation, and not wanting in good-humour.

"Whom seek you, young sirs?" asked the old seaman, as the youths drew near.

"One Captain Amyas Layton, an please you, sir," answered the elder of the two. "We were told in Plymouth town, where we arrived last night on horseback from Dartmouth, that we should find his residence in this direction; and if I mistake not, we stand even now before him."

"You are right in your conjectures, young sirs," answered Captain Layton; "I am the man you seek, and whoever you are and whatever your object, believing it to be an honest one, I give you greeting. Enter, for after your walk this warm summer's day you need rest and refreshment; the first you may take at once--the second you shall have as soon as my daughter Cicely returns from Plymouth, whither she has gone a-marketing, with our servant Barnaby, on our old nag Sampson, which I called after a Spanish carvel I sank out yonder--but of that anon. Come in."

The captain, without waiting to make further inquiries of the strangers, led the way into the hall, where he bade them take their seats in two carved oak chairs on either side of the fireplace--albeit the warmth of the day permitted not a fire to be burning there. The young men, removing their beavers, obeyed him.

"Though more substantial fare be wanting, I can serve you with a stoup of Canary, young sirs; and your walk, judging by my own taste, will render such acceptable," said the captain. a.s.suring him that they were in no way fatigued, they declined the wine on the plea of the early hour, and their not having been in the habit of drinking aught except a gla.s.s of ale at dinner or supper.

"A prudent custom for those not advanced in life," he observed; "and now, young sirs, to what cause am I indebted for this visit?"

"We have a long story to narrate, kind sir," answered the elder youth, "and we would first, tell you our names, and whence we come; which, in your hospitable kindness, you have not yet inquired. We are the sons of your old shipmate Captain Vaughan Audley, who, it has been supposed for the last ten years or more, perished among those who formed the first settlement in Virginia, planted by the brave Sir Walter Raleigh. For that long period our dear mother, notwithstanding the reports which reached her, has never altogether abandoned the hope that he might be alive; and though compelled to a.s.sume widow's weeds, she has remained faithful to his memory and refused again to wed."

"A true wife and honest woman, such as I delight to honour," observed the captain; "but alack! I received too certain news of my old comrade's death to make me doubt that he had pa.s.sed away to that better land where we all hope to meet."

"Truly, our mother, notwithstanding her expressions to the contrary, had begun to believe the same," answered the young man; "when about ten days gone by, there came to the gate of our house near Dartmouth, where we have lived since our father's departure, a seaman somewhat advanced in life, whose pallid face spoke of sickness, and his tattered garments of poverty long suffered. His name, he told us, was Richard Batten. He had wandered, he said, over all parts of the known globe; but though his pockets had been often filled with Spanish gold, they had again been quickly emptied through his own folly, and the greed of pretended friends; gambling, drinking, and other similar pursuits being his bane.

He now begged a crust and a draught of beer, or even of water, with leave to lie down in an outhouse that he might rest his weary limbs. We listened to his sad tale, and being sure that he spoke the truth, invited him into the house and placed before him a hearty meal, to which, however, he seemed scarcely able to do justice, so far gone was he with sickness. Still the little he ate revived him, and he talked on with my brother Gilbert here--a ready listener. At first he spoke only of voyages made long ago, but at length he told him of one he had lately performed across the Atlantic in a ship to obtain sa.s.safras, and trade with the natives of Virginia. The name immediately aroused Gilbert's attention, who called me to listen to what the seaman was saying. He had sailed in April from Milford Haven, on board the _Speedwell_, Captain Martin Pring, a ship of about fifty tons, the year after our present King James came to the throne, and in company with her went the _Discoverer_, bark of the same size, commanded by Captain Brown. They were victualled for eight months, and laden with all sorts of apparel, gewgaws and baubles proper to trade with the inhabitants of the country whither they were going. Arriving off the coast of Virginia in June, they entered a great gulf, where they found people on both sides, with whom they had much intercourse. Here they were engaged in loading their bark with sa.s.safras, much to their satisfaction.

"Batten, however, while searching for sa.s.safras, having wandered away from his companions, thinking to return, got yet farther from them, and at length, overcome with fatigue, fell asleep. On awaking he found that it was night. When daylight returned, clouds covered the sky, and, still thinking to get back to the ship, he went on all day, but again failed to see the great river in which she rode.

"Having his gun and ammunition, he was able to shoot some birds and animals, and with the fruits he found growing on the trees he sustained life. Thus for three days more he wandered up and down, till he at length reached the river; when to his dismay, he could nowhere see the ship. Having no doubt that she had sailed, he now set off along the sh.o.r.e, hoping to overtake her in case she had brought up at any other place. He was pushing on bravely, when he saw before him a large party of Indians; to fight with them was useless--he held out his hand, which the chief took, and showed by signs that he would be his friend. He tried to inquire for the ship, but the Indians made him understand that she had gone away and that it was best for him to remain with them. He thought so likewise, and agreed to live with them, and to hunt and fish as they did.

"After some time they set off up the country, where larger game was to be found. Having husbanded his powder, as long as that lasted he was able to shoot several deer; but when that was gone, and he could no longer help the Indians, they treated him with less kindness than at first. This made him resolve to try and escape; he had got some distance from their camp, when he encountered another party of Indians, of a different tribe to those with whom he had been living. They carried him off a long way through the woods, till they reached their camp, when he was taken before their chief. A council was held, as he supposed, to decide whether he was to live or to be put to death. He was fully expecting to die, when a person whom he had not before seen appeared, and addressed him. On looking up at the stranger's face, greatly to his surprise he saw that he was a white man. Batten inquired whom he was.

"'A heart-broken exile--one who can feel for you,' was the answer; 'but fear not for your life--for that I will plead, as I have interest with the chief, though for years I have been kept a prisoner without hope of escape.'

"Who think you, Captain Layton, was the stranger who now spoke to Batten? He was no other than our father, Captain Vaughan Audley, who sailed with Sir Richard Grenville, Mr Dane, and Mr Cavendish on board the _Roebuck_ with many other ships in company. When Sir Richard returned to England, our father had remained with upwards of a hundred men with Governor Dane at Roanoke, where they fixed their abode and built a fort. The Indians, who had hitherto been friendly, formed, however, a league against them. They were expecting a.s.sistance from England, when one night the fort was stormed; most of the people were put to the sword, but the life of our father was preserved by a chief whom he had befriended when, on a former occasion, that chief had fallen into the hands of the English. The chief, carrying him to his canoe, concealed him from his companions and conveyed him far away up the river. Here landing, he concealed him in his own wigwam, where he was cured of his hurts; but our father had not from that time seen a white face till he met with Batten.

"Batten's life, as our father promised, was saved; though the Indians showed otherwise but little regard for him, and this made him wish to escape should he have the opportunity. He told his purpose to our father, and promised, should he succeed, to carry home the intelligence to his friends of his being alive. Some time afterwards, Batten said, he managed to escape from the Indians, when he made his way towards the seash.o.r.e. Lying hid in a thick bush for fear of being discovered by the natives, he one day caught sight of a party of Englishmen advancing at no great distance off. Delighted at the thoughts of meeting his countrymen, he was about to rush out of his place of concealment, when he saw a large body of Indians coming towards them. He waited to see the result, when to his horror the Indians drew their bows, and before the strangers were aware of their danger, every man among them was pierced by an arrow. Some fell dead; others drew their swords; but with terrific war-whoops the Indians, setting on them, killed the whole with their tomahawks.

"Batten gave up all hopes of saving his life, but, wishing to put off the fatal moment, he remained concealed till near nightfall, when the Indians cutting off the scalps of the slain, went away inland, singing a song of triumph. He now stole out of his hiding-place, and ran on all night, intending to build a raft and make his way along the coast, when just at day-break, as he reached the sh.o.r.e, great was his joy to discover an English boat with two men in her. He rushed towards them, and gave an account of the way he had seen the Englishmen murdered. No sooner did they hear this than they shoved off from the sh.o.r.e and pulled with all their might down the river. For several days they continued toiling, till they reached their bark, the _Sally Rose_ which lay some way down towards its mouth; but the master, on hearing that the pilot and all the officers had been killed, forthwith weighed anchor, and, setting sail, stood for England. The _Sally Rose_ sprang a leak, and scarcely could she be kept afloat till, coming up Channel, they entered the port of Dartmouth. Here landing, Batten was making his way without a groat in his pocket to London, when Providence directed him to our door.

"On hearing this strange narrative, I sent Gilbert to fetch our mother and sister Lettice, who listened to it with breathless interest; and getting such answers as we could from the seaman to the questions put to him, we were all convinced that he had given us a faithful account, and that our father was really alive. We now earnestly consulted with him what to do; not forgetting to seek for guidance from on high as to the best means for recovering our father. Gilbert was for setting out forthwith, taking Batten as his companion, and getting on board the first ship sailing for America; but even had our mother agreed to Gilbert's proposal, it was impracticable, as the old sailor was becoming worse and worse. We sent for the apothecary, and did all we could to restore his waning strength; but all was in vain, and before the next day was over he had breathed his last.

"We were now much troubled, for the means on which we had depended for discovering our father had thus been lost. We had no one with whom to consult; we talked and talked, but could come to no conclusion. 'We will pray to G.o.d for guidance,' said our mother, 'we will now, my children, go to rest; and to-morrow morning we will meet, with the hope that light will be afforded us to direct our course.'

"Her first words the following morning when she entered the parlour were: 'Praise be to G.o.d--he has not left me any longer in doubt what to do--I have bethought me of Captain Amyas Layton, who resides not far from Plymouth. He and your father have often been shipmates, and he is among the oldest of his friends, and will give you sound advice on the subject. I would wish you to set out forthwith for Plymouth, and to place the whole matter before him. Tell him that I will expend all my means towards fitting out a ship to send to Virginia with trustworthy persons to search for your father. It may be, though, for the love Captain Layton bore him, that he will afford further means if necessary for the purpose.'"

"That will I right gladly," exclaimed the captain, starting up, and taking three or four paces between the chairs in which the young brothers were sitting--first looking at one and then at the other; "you two are Audleys--I recognise your father's features in both your countenances. There are few men whose memory I hold in greater love or esteem, and I will not say that to recover him I would hazard half my fortune, for the whole of it I would gladly give to bring him back, and old as I am, will sail forth myself in command of a ship to Virginia should a younger man of sufficient experience be wanting. You, young sir, I perceive by your dress and looks, have not been to sea; or you would be the proper person to sail in search of the missing one."

"No, sir," answered Vaughan, "but I have been for some time a student at Cambridge, where I have diligently studied mathematics, and being well acquainted with the mode by which ships are navigated, although I am ignorant of the duties of a seaman, I might, with the aid of a sailing master, be able without difficulty to reach the country of which Batten told us. Gilbert has already made two voyages to the Thames, and one as far as the Firth of Forth, so that he is not altogether ignorant of sea affairs, and lacks not willingness for the purpose."

"So I should judge," observed the captain, casting an approving look at Gilbert; "I like your spirit, young man; and you may trust to me that I will do all I can to forward your views. Had my son Roger been at home, the matter might quickly have been arranged; but he has long been gone on a voyage to the East Indies with Sir Edward Michaelbourn, on board the _Tiger_, a stout ship, in which Captain John Davis sailed as pilot.

There went also a pinnace named the _Tiger's Whelp_. I would the good ship were back again, for Roger is my only son, and his sister Cicely begins to fret about him."

"Gladly would I serve under your son, should he before long return and be willing to sail for Virginia," replied Vaughan.

"Would you be as willing to serve under me, young sir?" asked the captain, glancing from under his s.h.a.ggy eyebrows at Vaughan; "for verily, should not Roger soon come back, I should be greatly inclined to fit out a stout ship, and take Cicely on board and all my household goods, and to settle down in the New World. Cicely has her brother's spirit, and will be well pleased to engage in such a venture; as I will promise her to leave directions for Roger to join us should he return after we have sailed."

"I could desire nothing better, Captain Layton," answered the young man; "our mother will indeed rejoice to hear that you have been so ready to comply with her request. What you propose far surpa.s.ses her expectations."

Captain Amyas Layton had been a man of action all his life, and age had not quenched his ardour. While pacing up and down, his thoughts were rapidly at work; every now and then he addressed his young guests, evidently turning over in his mind the various plans which suggested themselves.

"My old shipmate Captain George Weymouth is now in England," he said, "I will write to learn his opinion. I have another friend, Captain Bartholomew Gosnell. I know not if he has again sailed since his last voyage to America; if not, I will find him out. He will, to a certainty, have useful information to give us."

Thus the captain ran over the names of various brave commanders, who had at different times visited the sh.o.r.es of North America. He counted much also, he said, on Captain John Davis, who had sailed along those coasts; though he had gained his chief renown in the northern seas, amid the ice-mountains which float there throughout the year--his name having been given to those straits through which he pa.s.sed into that region of cold. Vaughan and Gilbert had been listening attentively to all he said, desiring to report the same to their mother and Lettice, when the sound of a horse's hoofs were heard in the paved yard by the side of the house.

"Here comes Cicely with Barnaby, and we shall ere long have dinner, for which I doubt not, my young friends, you will be ready," observed the captain.

Gilbert acknowledged that his appet.i.te was becoming somewhat keen; but Vaughan made no remark. He was of an age to watch with some interest for the appearance of Mistress Cicely Layton, though of her existence he had not heard till her father mentioned her.

He had not long to wait before a side-door opened, and a young damsel with straw hat on head and riding-habit fitting closely to a graceful form, entered the hall. She turned a surprised glance at the strangers, and then gave an inquiring one at her father, who forthwith made known their guests to her as the sons of an old friend; on which she put forth her hand and frankly welcomed them. The colour of her cheek heightened slightly as Vaughan, with the accustomed gallantry of the day, pressed her hand to his lips, and especially as his eyes met hers with a glance of admiration in them which her beauty had inspired. Truly, Cicely Layton was a maiden formed in nature's most perfect mould--at least, so thought Vaughan Audley. Gilbert also considered her a very sweet girl, though not equal in all respects to his sister Lettice, who was fairer and somewhat taller and more graceful; but then Gilbert always declared that Lettice was perfection itself.

Having delivered certain messages she had brought from Plymouth for her father, Cicely addressed a few remarks to the young gentlemen; then, saying that she must go to prepare for serving up the dinner, which, as it was near noon, ought soon to be on the table, she dropped a courtesy and left the room. Each time the door opened, Vaughan turned his eyes in that direction, expecting to see Mistress Cicely enter; but first came a waiting-maid to spread a damask table-cloth of snowy whiteness, and then came Barnaby Toplight with knives and forks; then Becky came back with plates. "This must be she," thought Vaughan; but no--it was Barnaby again with a huge covered dish, followed by Becky with other viands.

At length the door again opened, and Mistress Cicely tripped in, her riding-dress laid aside. She was habited in silken attire, her rich tresses falling back from her fair brow, her neck surrounded by a lace ruff of wondrous whiteness. The captain having said grace, desired his guests to fall to on the viands placed before them; though Vaughan seemed often to forget to eat, while conversing with Mistress Cicely; Gilbert meantime finding ample subject for conversation with her father.

Dinner occupied no great length of time, though the captain insisted on his friends sitting with him to share a bottle of Canary, which he ordered Barnaby to bring from the cellar, that they might drink success to their proposed voyage to Virginia. The young men then rose, offering to return to Plymouth, but their host would on no account hear of it, declaring that they must remain till he could see certain friends in Plymouth with whom he desired to consult about their projected voyage.

They without hesitation accepted his proffered hospitality; possibly the satisfaction the elder felt in Mistress Cicely's company might have a.s.sisted in deciding him to remain, instead of returning home. Indeed, he considered it would be better to wait, that he might carry some certain information to his mother as to the progress made in the matter.

In the evening Mistress Cicely invited him to stroll forth into the neighbouring woods, beneath whose shade the sea-breeze which rippled the surface of the Sound might be fully enjoyed. Their conversation need not be repeated; for Cicely talked much of her gallant brother, and was sure that Master Audley would be well pleased to make his acquaintance when he should return from the East Indies. "Though, alack! I know not when that will be," she added, with a sigh.

The captain and Gilbert followed, talking on various interesting subjects. The captain was highly pleased with Gilbert, who reminded him greatly of his father.

"I knew him when he was no older than you are," observed the former. "A right gallant youth he was. Already he had been in two or more battles, and had made two voyages to the Spanish main. He married young, and I thought would have given up the ocean; but, like many others, was tempted to go forth in search of fortune, intending, I believe, that your mother should follow when he had founded a home for her in the Western World."

"I have heard my mother say, sir," said Gilbert, "that my father was but twenty-five when he sailed for Virginia, leaving me an infant, and my brother and sister still small children; so that even my brother has no recollection of his appearance."