Sea-Dogs All! Part 10

"True!"

"Thou hast no thought of quitting the homestead?"

"Heaven forbid! 'twas my father's before me. I'll never leave it."

"That's a pity."

"How so?"

"I've come down to fetch thee away."

Johnnie was losing patience with his visitor. His thoughts were busy with the rick-makers in the yard, and Master Jeffreys was in no hurry to say his say and be gone. He gave himself more airs than the knight his master. "Sit and rest thyself," exclaimed the farmer, getting up.

"I can see that thy story will keep another hour. I'll send the wench into thee with some ale and venison. Eat and drink and take thine ease until I come to thee again." Without another word he vanished.

"A hasty fellow," commented Master Jeffreys. "A few trees and a muddy river make up his world. A winter in London will open his eyes and give him a broader view of life; then he will behave in a more leisured manner."

Johnnie saw to the unlading of his last wagon and the shaping off of his wheat-rick. Then he went indoors again, and found his visitor ready to deliver his message without any more beating about the bush.

It was short, but pointed. Jeffreys--who described himself as a poor gentleman of Devon attached to the fortunes of his more famous neighbour--was instructed to invite, or rather command, Master Morgan's presence in London. Raleigh had spoken of him to the Queen, and the admiral had also written concerning him. Her Majesty was anxious to see the valiant forester, and Jeffreys duly impressed upon him the necessity of seizing so glorious a chance to push his fortunes.

But Morgan was not so eager; in fact, he told the messenger that, much as he loved Raleigh and honoured the Queen, he did not propose to venture into London. Jeffreys argued. Morgan was firm. "I'll not come except at the direct command of the good Sir Walter or the Queen.

If I am left any choice in the matter, I choose to abide in the forest."

"Very well," said Jeffreys, "then I'll be going. My steed will be rested. Canst give me a guide to Newnham? I want a Captain Dawe."

"Ah!" cried Johnnie, all ears in a moment.

"The knight hath commissioned me to deliver a letter to a Mistress Dorothy Dawe."

"Then I'll get me out of my workday suit and walk to Newnham with thee," exclaimed the farmer. "There's nought so refres.h.i.+ng as a tramp along the shaded, woodland ways, and I have a little business of mine own to do with Captain Dawe. I shall serve thee and myself at the same time." So much the yeoman said aloud. Inwardly he muttered, "I'll not have this bowing and sc.r.a.ping image ducking and bobbing before my Dolly, and sniffing round her parlour like a dog that hopes to start some quarry from behind chair or table. He'll be in luck if his message-carrying doesn't get him a cracked crown. I hope the knight hath not many such as he in his train."

Jeffreys stared when his guide came again into the sunny parlour prepared for his walk to Newnham. The rough farmer in hodden gray had disappeared, and in his place stood a stalwart and handsome young gentleman in green slashed doublet and hosen of soft cream cloth. A green cap with a white swan's feather perched jauntily on the dark, curling hair, and from a belt of pale buckskin hung a sword with a delicately chased handle. The "poor gentleman of Devon" fresh from London and the court felt as gay as a dusty barndoor fowl might feel beside a lordly peac.o.c.k.

"La! Master Morgan," he cried, "I'm glad thou hast no mind for London in my company. In good sooth, I've no wish to walk down Chepe or Whitehall with thee at my elbow. Ne'er a wench would give an eye to me. Even through the forest, with nought save the birds and beasts to quiz at us, I think I'll come along humbly in the rear with my cap in my hand. You foresters go a-visiting in as smart a guise as a town gallant goes to the play. Dost mind if I wash my face, comb my locks, and have another brus.h.i.+ng ere we set forth?"

"Ha' done with thy jesting, good sir; thou art a traveller from afar, and lookest the part to perfection. I am at mine ease at home going to pay a call to a pretty neighbour. Let us be jogging; 'tis a long walk to Newnham, and the afternoon is wearing late."

The two young men set out for the little river town. Morgan at first had little to say, and let his companion rattle on as he pleased about London--its streets, shops, taverns, and theatres. But, by-and-by, he became eager over the wild beauties of river and forest, and he told tales of cave and cliff and pool, of boar and deer, pirate and fisherman, and forced Master Jeffreys to listen. And so they got to Newnham and the pretty cottage with fair flowers outside and a fairer flower within. "This is Captain Dawe's house," said Johnnie.

"I thank thee heartily. I can knock and introduce myself and mine errand, and leave thee free to go at once to the pretty maid in whose honour thou hast decked thyself so gallantly."

"Trouble not thyself, Master Jeffreys; I shall do my business the better by coming in to quicken thine. Follow me; I am in the habit of entering this house without going through the ceremony of knocking."

Saying this, the forester lifted the latch and stood aside for his companion to cross the threshold first. A sound of singing came from the kitchen.

"A pretty bird in a pretty cage," said Jeffreys.

"E'en so," commented Morgan; "thine eyes and ears are pa.s.sably good for a townsman. Pardon me leaving thee for a moment."

Morgan strode off kitchenwards. There was a sudden, "La, Jack! thou dost look like a feast day. Mind the flour!" After that Jeffreys always declared that he heard the sound of a vigorous kiss. Silence followed; then excited whisperings; then a scamper of light feet; and Morgan returned and ushered his waiting companion into the parlour.

"Captain Dawe is down by the river," he said; "Mistress Dorothy will be with us anon."

"And the pretty bird that sang in the kitchen over the flour tub?"

"Was Mistress Dorothy."

"Thy sleeve is whitened, Master Morgan."

Johnnie coolly brushed away the tell-tale smudge. "Women always smother a room up on baking-day," he replied.

Dorothy came in.

"This is Sir Walter's man, who hath a packet for thee.--Master Jeffreys, this is Mistress Dawe."

Dorothy curtsied, and the messenger bowed. "Never had long journey so pretty and pleasant an ending," he said. "Here is a packet from my master, the gallant knight Sir Walter Raleigh. I am to take back an answer."

Dorothy took the packet, blus.h.i.+ng at the sight of the pretty ribbons wherewith it was tied. "I am honoured indeed," she murmured; "pray you be seated, fair sir."

Chapter XVI.

TO LONDON TOWN.

The packet that Master Jeffreys handed to Dorothy was too large and too heavy for a mere missive; and the maid, recalling some jocular promises of Raleigh's, at once suspected that some London gew-gaw lay snug within, and tore off the wrappings with eager fingers. Her hopes were not disappointed, and a dainty pair of silver s...o...b..ckles shone in the sunlight.

"Dear heart alive! surely they are not for me," cried Dolly.

"Read the letter, mistress," said Jeffreys.

A knot of blue ribbon was the only seal on the knight's letter, and the blus.h.i.+ng maiden opened and read; and, as she read, the rich colour of her cheeks grew ever richer and deeper, and Johnnie pulled his cap-feather to pieces and watched her. She finished, sighed, looked at her lover and at the writer's messenger, then, with a "By your leave, Master Jeffreys," she handed the missive to Johnnie. "Read," she said.

"Nay, why should I?" was the somewhat sheepish response.

"Because I wish it," said Dolly promptly.

"I am bad at reading script; each one hath too much of his own fas.h.i.+on in the twists and curls of the letters."

"This is as plain as Bible print. Art going to London?"

"No!"

Dolly's face fell. "Hath not Master Jeffreys given thee Sir Walter's message?"

"Ay, and I have sent back a civil and courteous 'No.' What should I do in such a place?"

"What a question for a fellow of spirit to ask!" cried Dolly.

"What a question, indeed!" echoed Jeffreys; "and a sweet maid with her toes tingling to tread the golden pavements! Read, Master Morgan; the gallant knight's words will speak more persuasively than my poor tongue."