CHAPTER XXIII. HOW THEY LEFT THE WIGHT.

The stirring sound of trumpets awoke Ralph at an early hour the next morning. All the castle-yard was already busy with hurrying men-at-arms, archers, and varlets. Sir John Trenchard, Tom o' Kingston, and the other officers were giving orders and getting the men into their places.

The great gates of the castle were wide open, the drawbridge was lowered. Lady Trenchard and the domestics of the Captain's apartments were looking down from the oriel window. The chapel bell was ringing, and as many as could find room in the little building were reverently assisting at the Mass, the last they should ever hear in England performed by their worthy chaplain, who was going with them.

In another hour the troops were drawn up, and a fine body of men they looked. All those from the West Medene, or western division of the island, had mustered at the castle. Those from the East Medene were to muster at St Helens, where the embarkation was to take place. But in spite of being little more than half their strength, the small body of about two hundred and fifty men looked very smart and serviceable.

On the right of the line drawn up in the courtyard were the men-at-arms, a body of some forty cavaliers, armed from head to foot in complete plate armour, and wearing the picturesque white tabard with the red cross over their breastplates; behind these were the custrils and grooms, all armed also, but with less complete body armour. All this body of cavalry carried lances, daggers, and stout long swords, while the men-at-arms, in addition, had the formidable mace hanging from their saddle-bow.

Next to the men-at-arms, on their left, were the mounted archers--a most serviceable force--nearly all armed with back and breastpieces, over a stout leathern jerkin, with plates of steel strapped on their sleeves and thighs, and armed with round targets, crossbows, slung behind their backs, long swords and knives. On their heads they wore the salade, or open helmet, with the gorget and chin-piece to protect their necks and upper part of the chest. Many of them wore chain-shirts, or brigandines, under their steel breast-plates, while these, like the men-at-arms, wore the white tabard and red cross of St George.

The mounted archers rode stout ponies, called hobbies, and were attended by another body of grooms, drawn up behind them. To the left of all were the infantry, composed of the archers, armed with their long bows, the celebrated weapon to which England owed all her victories, and cloth-yard shafts hung in their quivers, a stout sword on thigh, and a long keen knife in the belt. Some were protected by defensive armour, but most were simply clad in leathern jackets and stout leggings, with a steel cap on the head. Like all the rest of the force, they wore the white tabard and red cross. The billmen were armed and equipped like the archers, without the long bows. Behind this division were the grooms and camp followers, while on the left of all were the pack animals and baggage train.

A loud flourish of trumpets now proclaimed that the Captain of the Wight was mounting at the door of his hall, and in another minute Sir Edward Woodville, in complete armour, only wearing a velvet bonnet ornamented with an ostrich plume placed jauntily on one side of his head, rode out in front of the line--

    "On his brest, a bloodie crosse he bore,
    The deare remembrance of his dying Lord,
    For whose swete sake that glorious badge he wore,
    And dead--as living ever--him adored.
    Upon his shield the like was also scored--
    For soveraine hope, which in His helpe he had."
    

Glancing down the line, and acknowledging the general salute with which he was greeted, the Captain of the Wight gave the order to march, and placing himself with his esquires and pages in the centre of the column, the little force moved off. They tramped over the drawbridge, amid the cheers of the small body of men left to garrison the castle, and defiled down the steep road to Newport. The march through the town was one long leave-taking.

Master Paxhulle looked at the cavalcade with mingled feelings of satisfaction and chagrin. He was glad to have so formidable a rival as Tom o' Kingston removed out of his way, but he did not at all like to see the interest Mistress Bremskete took in him, or the sobs of grief, intermixed with ejaculations of admiration, which broke from her from time to time.

"Marry, Master Paxhulle, that's what I call a man. Oh! when shall I see his like again?"

"Cheer up, Mistress Bremskete, there's a-many as good as he, and much more likely to make an honest woman comfortable."

"Nay, nay; 'tis a parlous brave man, and one of a brave heart withal. 'Tis a tender man, and one as'd let a woman have her own way. And to think of his going to be killed in France!"

"Nay! Now nay! Mistress Bremskete, 'tis the French they're going to kill!"

"Ah, well, 'twill be a weary time for many a loving heart 'till they be come back again."

And so it seemed, to judge by the weeping women who were bidding their friends good-bye. The head of the column was now passing over Copping Bridge, and their glancing spear-points and fluttering pennons could be seen over the hedges of the long lane which led up to the central ridge of the island. After they had mounted the crest of Arreton Down, which divided the fertile and sunny vale of Newchurch from the dense woods of the northern shores of the island, a glorious view met their eye. The gleaming bay of Sandown, bounded by the beetling cliffs of Culver on the east, looking like walls of ivory rising from the azure sea; while on the west loomed up the grandly swelling ridge of Boniface Down, and the dim headland of Dunnose. Below lay the fertile land, smiling in the morning sun, with hamlet, farm-house, and church nestling in sheltering copse or woody dell.

"'Tis a fair land and a rich," said Lord Woodville, reining in his horse to look at the lovely view. His glance took in the steep acclivity above Appuldurcombe, and rested upon the darker shadow which marked where the little Priory stood. With a sigh the Captain of the Wight shook the reins of his horse and turned to pursue his march. He gave no look to Briddelsford, which lay amid the northern woods, and towards which Ralph was looking with wistful eyes, and spake but little until they reached the end of Ashey Down.

Then a cry broke from the head of the column, for there lay the ships that were to take them over the sea to the sunny land of France, and it came home to all men that they might be looking on their own fair home for the last time.

They descended to the valley below, and passing through Ashey village they crossed the Brading road a little to the north of that borough, where they were joined by a large body of men led by young Oglander of Nunwell; they then skirted the beautiful Brading creek, until rising once more they reached St Helens Green, and descended for the last time to the old church by the sea. Here they found all the rest of the band, and a great crowd of relations and friends come to bid them God speed.

Ralph revelled in the busy scene, and, together with Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville, superintended the embarkation of the baggage. The four ships which were to take over the expedition were lying in the narrow channel at the entrance to Brading Haven.

As the expedition marched down the steep declivity from St Helens to the sandy spit thrown up by the winds and waves to form a breakwater for the broad expanse of Brading Haven, the vessels were being warped alongside the shingly beach. The tide was falling fast, and by the time the baggage animals had reached the sea beach, the sea had left the wide extending flat of sand and shingle, so as to allow of all going alongside the flat-bottomed unwieldy hulks of the transport vessels.

The work of embarkation went on all day, and by the time the tide had risen over the beach again, every one was on board.

It was an exquisite evening, and its still beauty impressed all hearts.

Astern of Ralph's ship lay the three other awkwardly-built, high-prowed vessels, the rising tide seething past their anchor cables, which quivered and vibrated in the rushing eddy. Every rope and pulley, mast and yard, and fluttering bannerole stood out velvety brown against the pale primrose, the orange gold, the purple and grey of the western sky, while the still waters of that large mere reflected the solemn shadowy hills, and the brilliant light of the departed sun. The grey green mist of evening was creeping over the distance, and the evening star flickered its glinting light across the purling water. There was silence in nature, but not in man. Sounds of merriment arose from the idly floating ships; songs and laughter, and shouts to their friends upon the shore, where the flickering firelight showed that many were camping out to take the last view of their relatives.

Ralph could have wished to be alone: the noises jarred upon his feelings. He moved away from the taffrail, where he had been sitting watching the bubbles of the tide as it eddied under the stern post.

Dicky Cheke met him. That youth had already assumed quite a nautical air, and was casting his eye aloft with all the assurance of an old sea dog.

"Well met, Ralph," he said. "We shall have an air o' wind anon, when the moon's set, and the tide's done flowing. You mark my words. And hark ye, my son, doubtless as this is thy first trip to sea thou'lt feel squeamish a bit, I reckon. Now, take my advice, eat a hunk o' fat bacon, and quaff off a pint or so of good ale; 'twill fortify thy stomach, and things won't come so much amiss afterwards. I'm going to have a right merry feed with Maurice by-and-by. Thou hadst best join us." And Master Cheke rolled off in proper sea-going fashion, whistling, much to Ralph's amusement.

But certainly that part of his remarks about the breeze was true. A crisp little puff came off the land, blurring the soft reflection of wood and hill, and star and purple sky; and as the tide had nearly done, the skipper of the Captain's ship gave orders to weigh anchor and set sail.
HOW THEY LEFT ST. HELENS, I.W.
HOW THEY LEFT ST. HELENS, I.W.

This was joyous news. The cable was shortened until it was nearly up and down. The large jib was run up to the foremast, and the foresail dropped down from the yard, and with a "Yeo, heave, yeo, break her out, my boys," the heavy anchor was hauled up to the cathead, and the voyage had begun. Slowly the ship moved through the still flowing tide, but as each sail was set, and the night breeze came stronger, she gathered way and rippled through the whispering sea. The vessels astern had followed the example of the Captain's ship, and were stemming the tide behind.

Cheer upon cheer came from the shore, answered by ringing shouts from the ships. The decks and rigging were crowded with lusty men, waving scarves and caps, and cheering till the welkin rang again.

The enthusiasm was unbounded, and Ralph had never felt such excitement, not even when he won the prize of the tourney.

As the ship drew out from the land the breeze came fresher still; and the creaking yards and bellying sails, with the gurgling sound of the rushing sea, told how well they were going.

Overhead the stars were shining in brilliant glitter, and the dark outline on their right faintly indicated their island home. Should they ever see it again? But scarce one of all that crew of lusty men gave a thought to such a foreboding. For them, life and wealth, and name and fame, lay away in the south across the sea, and the present was joyous. What more could they want?

"Well, Ralph, my son, we are well at sea now. They'll be shifting over those cloths, I'm thinking, for the breeze is coming more over her stern. Ah! I thought so; look out for that lee sheet, thou hast got thy leg foul of the slack. I' faith! what a thing it is to be a landlubber."

"Certes, Dicky, thou art a mariner--at least thou thinkest so; but art sure all thy terms are rightly applied?" said Ralph, laughing at the nautical Dicky, who had now put on a suit of yellow oiled clothes, and smelt very unpleasantly. "Faugh! Dicky, how parlous nasty thou art! and why hast put on this strange suit?"

"Certes, Ralph, thou art simple! 'tis a right proper dress, and one that suiteth the sea; had I had time, I would have bid thee get one too," said Dicky, who secretly had determined to surprise his comrades by his thorough knowledge of nautical matters, and would not have told them beforehand for worlds.

They had now lost sight of the island, and the ship was made snug for the night--strict discipline was observed on board, and watches set, only the pages were allowed to stay up on deck as long as they liked.

Dicky Cheke now prepared for his feast. He chose a sheltered place under the weather gunwale; and finding three coils of rope ready to hand, he placed his various luxuries in their protecting folds. There was a large game pasty, a very substantial ham, a conserve of plums, and a cheese, with new bread and a large jar of ale.

Ralph and Maurice Woodville sat down on some old sails and helped to arrange the feast. Dicky Cheke had become more nautical than ever, and would insist on walking about. The breeze had gradually freshened, and they were surging through the sea in splendid style. The other ships were hull down astern, not one of them being such a fast sailer as the ship which carried the Captain of the Wight.

Maurice Woodville had arranged the places, and bid Dicky sit down. But that young gentleman would persist in showing them how well he kept his feet in spite of the rolling of the ship, which was now running through the strong eddies of St Catherine's. However pride, as ever, goeth before a fall. He was bending down, with legs astride, to adjust the game pasty before he opened it, when the ship gave a heavier roll to port, and Master Dicky sat down abruptly in a pail which Maurice Woodville had thoughtfully put to catch him if he should fall. Dicky's collapse caused the pail to capsize, and the luckless youth, together with the pail, went rolling over into the lee-scuppers, bumping against the main hatchway in his fall.

"Blessed Thomas!" ejaculated Dicky, "what in the name of all sticky things is this?" He had caught hold of the fore halyards, and so recovered his feet again, but he found he could not relax his fingers: they were all glued together. "Ralph! Maurice! come hither! I am bewitched! There's some vile trick been played upon me. I am all stuck together: my coat's sticking to my arms. I can't move my sleeves, and my hands are stuck to this rope. Mercy on me! come quick!"

But Maurice and Ralph were choking with laughter, and could not, or would not, go to his help. At this moment, to make Dicky's discomfort still greater, the ship gave a heavy yaw, and sank down in the trough of a wave, while the man at the wheel brought her head up again to the next sea somewhat too rapidly, with the effect of sending a deluge of water over the head of the unfortunate Dicky, whose hat had come off, and was lying under the lee gunwale. Dicky, gasping, shivering, and spluttering, was violently thrown off his legs, and waved in the air for a moment; then he banged his shins against the sharp end of a heavy iron cleat, uttering a howl of anguish; and finally, with a violent wrench, he got his hands free from the rope, and scrambled over the slippery deck to his friends and guests.

"Well, Dicky, what's the matter with thee?" said Ralph, scarcely recovered from his fit of laughter.

"Body o' me knows," said Dicky ruefully; "but methinks I am bewitched. I can't lift up my arms; and oh! mercy! I'm stuck together every way; and and how the water does trickle down my neck. Ugh! it's got down my back now: I feel it running down my backbone. Ugh! oh! hold on, one of you, or I shall be off again," and Dicky grasped at the coil of rope nearest to him, to save himself going backwards once more as the ship rolled over again.

But he had caught hold of a treacherous support. The rope flew out of the coil, and once more Dicky rolled over. But this was not the worst of the mishap. The ham, the conserve of plums, and the cheese had been placed in this secure receptacle. They were displaced by the running rope, and followed the struggling Dicky. The cheese only hit him on the nose, and rolled merrily on to join the hat, which was floating in the salt water in an angle of the bulwark stanchions, where both were quickly joined by the ham; but the conserve of plums broke from its cover, and the luscious fruit, with its fragrant but sticky syrup, were thrown in the face of their miserable owner.

"Oh! ah!" gurgled Dicky, as a large and mellow plum caught him in the eye, already smarting from the salt water, while further remarks were rendered incoherent by another one going plop into his open mouth.

Ralph and Maurice were in imminent danger of joining the struggling Dicky. They were convulsed with laughter, and were totally incapable of helping him. At last Dicky once more scrambled up again, very wet, miserable, and disconsolate. He sat down with his back to the gunwale, and broke out into dismal grumbling.

"Well, you are scurvy knaves; you might at least have lent me a hand; and--why, where's the cheese? and I don't see the ham: it couldn't have been that which hit me on the nose! Oh, misery! and to think, after all, that beautiful ham and cheese are gone overboard! I chose them both myself! But perhaps they're only over there to leeward. Just step over, Maurice, and see."

"Nay, Dicky, let's stow the game-pie first, 'twill be best to get that out of the way," said Maurice, who had been longing to begin on the noble pie before him for some time.

"Marry! that's sound advice--hand it over here. Why, what's gone wrong with my jacket? I'm all stuck together. Oh, murder! whatever is this?"

Maurice again burst into a roar of laughter, which made Dicky furious.

"Maurice, you addled egg you, what do you see to laugh at?"

But Maurice only laughed the more.

"Ralph! rap him over the costard for me, and then do thou cut that pie. I'm too sticky to do it myself; and, to tell truth, my appetite's a'most gone with all this wet, and banging and shaking. I don't marvel I've got a headache, and feel a bit queer. Ugh! oh! oh, my! I wish she would not roll and pitch so," said poor Dicky ruefully.

Ralph did as he was told, and by the bright light of the stars and the lantern which swung in the rigging aloft to show the Captain's ship, he cut a large slice, and handed it to Dicky. But poor Dicky shook his head, and gave a little groan.

"I'll go and shift my clothes," he said, in a shivering voice. "I'm as wet as a drowned rat; and I can't think why I am so parlous sticky. I hope you fellows will eat up the pie, and have a merry time," added poor Dicky bravely.

This touched Maurice.

"Certes, Dicky, you are out of luck. But I'm grievous sad I put that--"

He broke into a peal of laughter, and could not go on, as he thought of the ridiculous scene.

"Well, Maurice, I don't see there's much to laugh at," grumbled Master Cheke.

"Oh--oh--I'm soothly grieved," gasped Maurice repentantly, trying to speak gravely, and then bursting out into a fresh fit of uproarious mirth.

At this moment the gruff voice of a man in the bows sung,--"Sail ho!" "Where away?" rang out from the Master. "On the starboard beam," came back the answer. "She's bearing up to cross us."

"Lower away that lantern, and luff a bit--so, steady," sung out the Master, who, after scanning the strange sail, went below to tell the Captain.

In a few moments more the crew came tumbling up the hatches, and the Captain of the Wight appeared in his armour.

Ralph and his fellow-pages went hastily below. The report had spread through the vessel that the stranger was a French ship, and that they intended fighting her. This was exciting news to the boys; they quietly armed themselves, and were returning on deck, when the piteous voice of Dicky Cheke stopped them.

"Oh! I am so bad, and I can't get off my coat!--whatever has come to it?"

"Why, it's all over tar," said Ralph. "You've sat down in a tar bucket."

Maurice's laughter again broke out uncontrolled, but Dicky, who now saw the trick that had been played upon him, made a sudden dash upon him, and pushed his tar-covered elbow in Maurice's face, which effectually stopped all further laughter, and the two boys fell over on the floor of the cabin, tussling and struggling, until a kick from the sergeant-at-arms made them get up and separate; and a ludicrous sight they both presented as they stood looking at each other. Dicky's yellow oilskin suit was all blotched and stuck together by great splashes of tar, while his hair and face were smeared with the same adhesive substance. Maurice was in very much the same condition. There was a large smear over his mouth and nose, and one eye and the side of his cheek were completely blackened.

"Well you be nice young gentlemen to be pages to the Lord Captain," said the man-at-arms sarcastically. "You'd best get some one to scrape you. I'm too busy;" so saying, the sergeant left them, to follow Ralph on deck, where nearly the whole ship's company was assembled under arms.

"They means to lay us aboard, my lord," said the Master.

"Certes, let them," answered the Captain of the Wight.

"Then all hands had best lie down--some along the lee gunwale, but most under hatches--or else, as they range up, they'll be afeared when they see how strong we muster," said the crafty old seaman.

This order was promptly given, and in another minute the decks looked as deserted as usual, only the ordinary watch required for working a merchant vessel being left visible.