The Path of the King [64]
as this man or that put his treasures into eternal hiding. A Spanish sword was like to have cleft my skull, but before I lost my senses I noted Captain Bovill tearing the chart in shreds and using them to hold down the last charges for his matchlock. He was crying, too, in English that some day we would return the road we had come."
"And you returned?"
The seaman shook his head. Not with earthly feet. Two of us they slew outright, and two more died on the way coastwards. For long I was between death and life, and knew little till I woke in the Almirante's cell at Panama. . . . The rest you have heard. Captain Bovill died praising God, and with him three stout lads out of Somerset. I escaped and tell you the tale."
Raleigh meditation. With a sudden motion he rose to his feet and stared through the port, which was now tremulous with the foreglow of the tropic dawn. He put his head out and sniffed the sweet cold air. Then he turned to his companion.
"You know the road back to the city?"
The other nodded. "I alone of men."
"What hinders, Jasper?" Raleigh's face was sharp and eager, and his eyes had the hunger of an old hound on a trail. "They are all deserting me and look but to save their throats. Most are scum and have no stomach for great enterprises. I can send Herbert home with three shiploads of faint hearts, while you and I take the Destiny and steer for fortune. Ned King will come--ay, and Pommerol. What hinders, old friend?"
The seaman shook his head. "Not for me, Sir Walter."
"Why, man, will you let that great marvel lie hid till the hills crumble and bury it?"
"I will return--but not yet. When I have seen my son a man, I go back, but I go alone."
"To the city of the gold kings?"
"Nay, to the Mount of the Angels, of which the priest told."
There was silence for a minute. The light dawn wind sent a surge of little waves against the ship's side, so that it seemed as if the now flaming sky was making its song of morning. Raleigh blew out the flickering lamp, and the cabin was filled with a clear green dusk like palest emerald. The air from the sea flapped the pages of the book upon the table. He flung off his furred gown, and stretched his long arms to the ceiling.
"I think the fever has left me. . . . You said your tale was a commentary on my confessions. Wherefore, O Ulysses?"
"We had the chance of immortal joys, but we forsook them for lesser things. For that we were thoroughly punished and failed even in our baseness. You, too, Sir Walter, have glanced aside after gauds."
"For certain I have," and Raleigh laughed.
"Yet not for long. You have cherished most resolutely an elect purpose and in that you cannot fail."
"I know not. I know not. I have had great dreams and I have striven to walk in the light of them. But most men call them will o' the wisps, Jasper. What have they brought me? I am an old sick man, penniless and disgraced. His slobbering Majesty will give me a harsh welcome. For me the Mount of the Angels is like to be a scaflold."
"Even so. A man does not return from those heights. When I find my celestial hill I will lay my bones there. But what matters the fate of these twisted limbs or even of your comely head: All's one in the end, Sir Walter. We shall not die. You have lit a fire among Englishmen which will kindle a hundred thousand hearths in a cleaner world."
Raleigh smiled, sadly yet with a kind of wistful pride.
"God send it! And you?"
"I have a son of my body. That which I have sowed he may reap. He or his son, or his son's son."
The morning had grown bright in the little room. Of the two the Admiral now looked the younger. The fresh light showed the other like a wrinkled piece of driftwood. He rose stiffly and moved towards the door.
"You have proved my David in good truth," said Raleigh. "This night has gone far to heal me in soul and body. Faith, I have a mind to breakfast. . . . What a miracle is our ancient England! French sire or no, Jasper, you have that slow English patience that is like the patience of God."
CHAPTER
"And you returned?"
The seaman shook his head. Not with earthly feet. Two of us they slew outright, and two more died on the way coastwards. For long I was between death and life, and knew little till I woke in the Almirante's cell at Panama. . . . The rest you have heard. Captain Bovill died praising God, and with him three stout lads out of Somerset. I escaped and tell you the tale."
Raleigh meditation. With a sudden motion he rose to his feet and stared through the port, which was now tremulous with the foreglow of the tropic dawn. He put his head out and sniffed the sweet cold air. Then he turned to his companion.
"You know the road back to the city?"
The other nodded. "I alone of men."
"What hinders, Jasper?" Raleigh's face was sharp and eager, and his eyes had the hunger of an old hound on a trail. "They are all deserting me and look but to save their throats. Most are scum and have no stomach for great enterprises. I can send Herbert home with three shiploads of faint hearts, while you and I take the Destiny and steer for fortune. Ned King will come--ay, and Pommerol. What hinders, old friend?"
The seaman shook his head. "Not for me, Sir Walter."
"Why, man, will you let that great marvel lie hid till the hills crumble and bury it?"
"I will return--but not yet. When I have seen my son a man, I go back, but I go alone."
"To the city of the gold kings?"
"Nay, to the Mount of the Angels, of which the priest told."
There was silence for a minute. The light dawn wind sent a surge of little waves against the ship's side, so that it seemed as if the now flaming sky was making its song of morning. Raleigh blew out the flickering lamp, and the cabin was filled with a clear green dusk like palest emerald. The air from the sea flapped the pages of the book upon the table. He flung off his furred gown, and stretched his long arms to the ceiling.
"I think the fever has left me. . . . You said your tale was a commentary on my confessions. Wherefore, O Ulysses?"
"We had the chance of immortal joys, but we forsook them for lesser things. For that we were thoroughly punished and failed even in our baseness. You, too, Sir Walter, have glanced aside after gauds."
"For certain I have," and Raleigh laughed.
"Yet not for long. You have cherished most resolutely an elect purpose and in that you cannot fail."
"I know not. I know not. I have had great dreams and I have striven to walk in the light of them. But most men call them will o' the wisps, Jasper. What have they brought me? I am an old sick man, penniless and disgraced. His slobbering Majesty will give me a harsh welcome. For me the Mount of the Angels is like to be a scaflold."
"Even so. A man does not return from those heights. When I find my celestial hill I will lay my bones there. But what matters the fate of these twisted limbs or even of your comely head: All's one in the end, Sir Walter. We shall not die. You have lit a fire among Englishmen which will kindle a hundred thousand hearths in a cleaner world."
Raleigh smiled, sadly yet with a kind of wistful pride.
"God send it! And you?"
"I have a son of my body. That which I have sowed he may reap. He or his son, or his son's son."
The morning had grown bright in the little room. Of the two the Admiral now looked the younger. The fresh light showed the other like a wrinkled piece of driftwood. He rose stiffly and moved towards the door.
"You have proved my David in good truth," said Raleigh. "This night has gone far to heal me in soul and body. Faith, I have a mind to breakfast. . . . What a miracle is our ancient England! French sire or no, Jasper, you have that slow English patience that is like the patience of God."
CHAPTER