The Great Mogul. Tracy Louis

bif; good, eh?”

      By reason of his bulk, Sainton seemed to be clumsy, though he was endowed with the agility of a deer. Suddenly lifting a foot, he planted it so violently in the pit of the Spaniard’s stomach that the humorist turned a somersault over a seat. His comrades laughed, but the man himself was enraged. He regained his feet, lifted his halberd, and would have brained Roger then and there had not another interposed his pike.

      An officer interfered, and there was much furious gesticulation before the discomfited joker lowered his weapon. He shot a vengeful glance at Roger, however, and cried something which caused further merriment.

      What he said was: —

      “Would that I might be there when the fire is lit. You will frizzle like a whole ox.”

      Fortunately, the Englishmen knew not what he meant. Yet they were not long kept in ignorance of some part, at least, of the fate in store for them. The galley at last drew up under the counter of a large ship of foreign rig, lying in the tideway off Tilbury Hope. With considerable difficulty, in their bound state, Mowbray and Roger were hoisted aboard, and taken to a tiny cabin beneath the after deck.

      Then there was a good deal of discussion, evidently induced by Roger’s proportions. Ultimately, a ship’s carpenter drove a couple of heavy iron staples into the deck. The big man eyed the preparations, and had it in his mind to pass some comment to Walter. Luckily, his native shrewdness stopped his tongue, else his spoken contempt for the holdfasts might have led to the adoption of other means of securing him.

      Two chains, each equipped with leg manacles, were fastened to the staples, and the bolts were hammered again until the chains were immovably riveted in the center. The prisoners were locked into the leg-piece, and their remaining fetters were removed. These operations occupied some time in accomplishments. They had been on board fully half an hour before the halberdiers left them, and they did not know that a tall man, heavily cloaked, who stood behind the screen of soldiers, was furtively watching them throughout.

      A sentry, with drawn sword, was stationed at the door when the others departed. The shrouded stranger imperiously motioned him aside and entered. He threw open his cloak. A tiny lantern swinging from the ceiling lit up his sallow, thin face. The piercing black eyes, hawk-like nose, and lips that met in a determined line, would have revealed his identity had not his garments placed the matter beyond doubt. It was the Jesuit whom they had encountered in the doorway of Gondomar’s house.

      He regarded them in silence for a moment. Then he smiled, and the menace of his humor was more terrible than many a man’s rage.

      “You are not so bold, now that a howling crowd is not at your backs,” he said, speaking English so correctly that it was clear he had dwelt many years in the country.

      “It may well be that your holiness is bolder seeing we are chained to the floor,” said Roger.

      “Peace, fellow. I do not bandy words with your like. When you reach Spain you shall have questions enough to answer. You,” he continued, fixing his sinister gaze on Walter, “you said your name was Mowbray, if I heard aright?”

      “Yes. What quarrel have I or any of my kin with Gondomar that my comrade and I should be entrapped in this fashion?”

      “Your name is familiar in my ears. Are you of the same house as one Robert Mowbray, who fell on board the San José on the day when St. Michael and his heavenly cohorts turned their faces from Spain?”

      “If you speak of the Armada,” answered Walter coldly, “I am the son of Sir Robert Mowbray, who was foully murdered on board that vessel by one of your order. Nevertheless,” he added, reflecting that such a reply was not politic, “that is no reason why I should be subjected to outrage or that you should lend your countenance to it. My friend and I, who have done no wrong, nor harmed none, save in defense of two ladies beset by roisterers, have been arrested on the King’s warrant and apparently handed over to the Spanish authorities because, forsooth, we pursued certain rascals into the Ambassador’s garden.”

      He paused, not that his grievance was exhausted but rather that the extraordinary expression of mingled joy and hatred which convulsed the Jesuit’s face told him his protests were unheeded.

      “Domine! exaudisti supplicationem meam!” murmured the ecclesiastic, “I have waited twenty years, and in my heart I have questioned Thy wisdom. Yet, fool that I was, I forgot that a thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past.”

      The concluding words were in Spanish, but Walter had enough Latin to understand his exclamation in that tongue. It bewildered him, yet he strove to clear the mystery that enfolded his capture.

      “I pray you,” he said urgently, “listen to my recital of events as they took place yesterday. When the truth is known it shall be seen that neither Master Sainton nor I have broken the King’s ordinance, or done wrong to Count Gondomar.”

      “’Tis not the King of England, so-called, nor the minister of His Most Catholic Majesty, to whom you shall render explanation. Words are useless with those of your spawn, yet shall your neck bend and your back creak ere many days have passed. Would that my sacred duty did not retain me in this accursed land! Would that I might sail in this ship to my own country! Yet I do commend you, Señor Mowbray, and that gross Philistine who lies by your side, to my brethren of the Seminary of San José at Toledo. They shall tend you in the manner that beseemeth the son of him who sent the miraculous statue of our patron to lie deep beneath the waves which protect this benighted England. Gloria in excelsis! Spain is still able, by the Holy office, to revenge insults paid to her saints. Malefico! Malefico!”

      Turning to the sentry, the Jesuit uttered some order which plainly had for its purport the jealous safeguarding of his prisoners. Then, with a parting glance of utmost rancor, and some Latin words which rang like a curse, he left them.

      “I’ faith,” laughed Roger, quietly, “his holiness regards us with slight favor, I fancy. The sound of your name, Walter, was unto him as a red rag to an infuriated bull.”

      “I never set eyes on the madman before yester eve,” said his astonished companion.

      “Gad! he swore at us in Latin, Spanish and English, and ’tis sure some of the mud will stick. An auld wife of my acquaintance, who was nurse to the Scroopes, and thus brought in touch with the Roman Church, so to speak, did not exactly know whether priest or parson were best, so she used to con her prayers in Latin and English. ‘The Lord only kens which is right,’ she used to say. I have always noticed myself that the saints in heaven cry ‘Halleluiah,’ which is Hebrew, but, as I’m a sinful man, I cannot guess how it may be with maledictions.”

      The Spanish soldier growled some order, which Walter understood to mean that they must not talk. He murmured the instruction to Roger.

      “They mun gag me first,” cried Sainton. “Say but the word, Walter, and I’ll draw these staples as the apothecary pulls out an offending tooth.”

      Here the sentry presented the point of his sword. His intent to use the weapon was so unmistakable that Roger thought better of his resolve, and curled up sulkily to seek such rest as was possible.

      Hidden away in the ship’s interior they knew nothing of what was passing without. Some food was brought to them, and a sailor carried to the cabin their own blankets and clothes on which they were able to stretch their limbs with a certain degree of comfort.

      They noticed that their guard was doubled soon after the Jesuit quitted them. One of the men was changed each hour, and this additional measure of precaution showed the determination of their captors to prevent the least chance of their escape, if escape could be dreamed of, from a vessel moored in the midst of a wide river, by men whose limbs were loaded with heavy fetters.

      With the sangfroid of their race they yielded to slumber. They knew not how the hours sped, but they were very much surprised when an officer of some rank, a man whom they had not seen previously, appeared in their little cabin and gave an order which resulted in their iron anklets being unlocked. He motioned to them to follow him. They obeyed, mounted a steep ladder, and found themselves on deck.

      The first breath of fresh