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HOW THE YELLOW COG CROSSED THE BAR OF GIRONDE.
FOR two days the yellow cog ran swiftly before a northeasterly wind, and
on the dawn of the third the high land of Ushant lay like a mist upon the
shimmering sky-line. There came a plump of rain towards mid-day and the breeze
died down, but it freshened again before nightfall, and Goodwin Hawtayne veered
his sheet and held head for the south. Next
morning they had passed Belle Isle, and ran through the midst of a fleet of
transports returning from Guienne. Sir
Nigel Loring and Sir Oliver Buttesthorn at once hung their shields over the
side, and displayed their pennons as was the custom, noting with the keenest
interest the answering symbols which told the names of the cavaliers who had
been constrained by ill health or wounds to leave the prince at so critical a
That evening a great dun-colored cloud banked up in the west, and an
anxious man was Goodwin Hawtayne, for a third part of his crew had been slain,
and half the remainder were aboard the galleys, so that, with an injured ship,
he was little fit to meet such a
storm as sweeps over those waters. All
night it blew in short fitful puffs, heeling the great cog over until the water
curled over her lee bulwarks. As
the wind still freshened the yard was lowered half way down the mast in the
morning. Alleyne, wretchedly ill
and weak, with his head still ringing from the blow which he had received,
crawled up upon deck, Water-swept and aslant, it was preferable to the noisome,
rat-haunted dungeons which served as cabins.
There, clinging to the stout halliards of the sheet, he gazed with
amazement at the long lines of black waves, each with its curling ridge of foam,
racing in endless succession from out the inexhaustible west.
A huge sombre cloud, flecked with livid blotches, stretched over the
whole seaward sky-line, with long ragged streamers whirled out in front of it.
Far behind them the two galleys labored heavily, now sinking between the rollers
until their yards were level with the waves, and again shooting up with a
reeling, scooping motion until every spar and rope stood out hard against the
sky. On the left the low-lying land
stretched in a dim haze, rising here and there into a darker blur which marked
the higher capes and headlands. The land of France! Alleyne's eyes shone as he
gazed upon it. The land of France!--the very words sounded as the call of a
bugle in the ears of the youth of England.
The land where their fathers had bled, the home of chivalry and of
knightly deeds, the country of gallant men, of courtly women, of princely
buildings, of the wise, the polished and the sainted.
There it lay, so still and gray beneath the drifting wrack--the home of
things noble and of things shameful--the theatre where a new name might be made
or an old one marred. From his
bosom to his lips came the crumpled veil, and he breathed a vow that if valor
and goodwill could raise him to his lady's side, then death alone should hold
him back from her. His thoughts
were still in the woods of Minstead and the old armory of Twynham Castle, when
the hoarse voice of the master-shipman brought them back once more to the Bay of
"By my troth, young sir," he said, "you are as long in the
face as the devil at a christening, and I cannot marvel at it, for I have sailed
these waters since I was as high as this whinyard, and yet I never saw more sure
promise of an evil night."
"Nay, I had other things upon my mind," the squire answered.
"And so has every man," cried Hawtayne in an injured voice.
"Let the shipman see to it. It
is the master-shipman's affair. Put
it all upon good Master Hawtayne! Never
had I so much care since first I blew trumpet and showed cartel at the west gate
"What is amiss then?" asked Alleyne, for the man's words were
as gusty as the weather.
"Amiss, quotha? Here am
I with but half my mariners, and a hole in the ship where that twenty-devil
stone struck us big enough to fit the fat widow of Northam through.
It is well enough on this tack, but I would have you tell me what I am to
do on the other. We are like to have salt water upon us until we be found
pickled like the herrings in an Easterling's barrels."
"What says Sir Nigel to it?"
"He is below pricking out the coat-armor of his mother's uncle.
'Pester me not with such small matters!' was all that I could get from him.
Then there is Sir Oliver. 'Fry
them in oil with a dressing of Gascony,' quoth he, and then swore at me because
I had not been the cook. 'Walawa,'
thought I, 'mad master, sober man'--so away forward to the archers.
Harrow and alas! but they were worse than the others."
"Would they not help you then?"
"Nay, they sat tway and tway at a board, him that they call Aylward
and the great red-headed man who snapped the Norman's arm-bone, and the black
man from Norwich, and a score of others, rattling their dice in an archer's
gauntlet for want of a box. 'The ship can scarce last much longer, my masters,'
quoth I. 'That is your business, old swine's-head,' cried the black galliard.
'Le diable t'emporte,' says Aylward.
'A five, a four and the main,' shouted the big man, with a voice like the
flap of a sail. Hark to them now,
young sir, and say if I speak not sooth."
As he spoke, there sounded high above the shriek of the gale and the
straining of the timbers a gust of oaths with a roar of deep- chested mirth from
the gamblers in the forecastle.
"Can I be of avail?" asked Alleyne.
"Say the word and the thing is done, if two hands may do it."
"Nay, nay, your head I can see is still totty, and i' faith little
head would you have, had your bassinet not stood your friend.
All that may be done is already carried out, for we have stuffed the gape
with sails and corded it without and within. Yet when we bale our bowline and
veer the sheet our lives will hang upon the breach remaining blocked.
See how yonder headland looms upon us through the mist!
We must tack within three arrow flights, or we may find a rock through
our timbers. Now, St. Christopher
be praised! here is Sir Nigel, with whom I may confer."
"I prythee that you will pardon me," said the knight, clutching
his way along the bulwark. "I
would not show lack of courtesy toward a worthy man, but I was deep in a matter
of some weight, concerning which, Alleyne, I should be glad of your rede.
It touches the question of dimidiation or impalement in the coat of mine
uncle, Sir John Leighton of Shropshire, who took unto wife the widow of Sir
Henry Oglander of Nunwell. The case
has been much debated by pursuivants and kings-of-arms. But how is it with you, master shipman?"
"Ill enough, my fair lord. The
cog must go about anon, and I know not how we may keep the water out of
"Go call Sir Oliver!" said Sir Nigel, and presently the portly
knight made his way all astraddle down the slippery deck.
"By my soul, master-shipman, this passes all patience!" he
cried wrathfully. "If this ship of yours must needs dance and skip like a
clown at a kermesse, then I pray you that you will put me into one of these
galeasses. I had but sat down to a
flask of malvesie and a mortress of brawn, as is my use about this hour, when
there comes a cherking, and I find my wine over my legs and the flask in my lap,
and then as I stoop to clip it there comes another cursed cherk, and there is a
mortress of brawn stuck fast to the nape of my neck.
At this moment I have two pages coursing after it from side to side, like
hounds behind a leveret. Never did
living pig gambol more lightly. But
you have sent for me, Sir Nigel?"
"I would fain have your rede, Sir Oliver, for Master Hawtayne hath
fears that when we veer there may come danger from the hole in our side."
"Then do not veer," quoth Sir Oliver hastily.
"And now, fair sir, I must hasten back to see how my rogues have
fared with the brawn."
"Nay, but this will scarce suffice," cried the shipman.
"If we do not veer we will be upon the rocks within the hour."
"Then veer," said Sir Oliver.
"There is my rede; and now, Sir Nigel, I must crave----"
At this instant, however, a startled shout rang out from two seamen upon
the forecastle. "Rocks!"
they yelled, stabbing into the air with their forefingers.
"Rocks beneath our very bows!" Through the belly of a great
black wave, not one hundred paces to the front of them, there thrust forth a
huge jagged mass of brown stone, which spouted spray as though it were some
crouching monster, while a dull menacing boom and roar filled the air.
"Yare! yare!" screamed Goodwin Hawtayne, flinging himself upon
the long pole which served as a tiller. "Cut
the halliard! Haul her over! Lay
her two courses to the wind!"
Over swung the great boom, and the cog trembled and quivered within five
spear-lengths of the breakers.
"She can scarce draw clear," cried Hawtayne, with his eyes from
the sail to the seething line of foam. "May
the holy Julian stand by us and the thrice-sainted Christopher!"
"If there be such peril, Sir Oliver," quoth Sir Nigel, "it
would be very knightly and fitting that we should show our pennons.
I pray you. Edricson, that
you will command my guidon-bearer to put forward my banner."
"And sound the trumpets!" cried Sir Oliver.
"In manus tuas, Domine! I
am in the keeping of James of Compostella, to whose shrine I shall make
pilgrimage, and in whose honor I vow that I will eat a carp each year upon his
feast-day. Mon Dieu, but the waves roar!
How is it with us now, master-shipman?"
"We draw! We draw!" cried Hawtayne, with his eyes still fixed upon
the foam which hissed under the very bulge of the side. "Ah, Holy Mother,
be with us now!"
As he spoke the cog rasped along the edge of the reef, and a long white
curling sheet of wood was planed off from her side from waist to poop by a
jutting horn of the rock. At the same instant she lay suddenly over, the sail drew
full, and she plunged seawards amid the shoutings of the seamen and the archers.
"The Virgin be praised!" cried the shipman, wiping his brow.
"For this shall bell swing and candle burn when I see Southampton Water
once more. Cheerily, my hearts!
Pull yarely on the bowline!"
"By my soul! I would rather have a dry death," quoth Sir
Oliver. "Though, Mort Dieu! I have eaten so many fish that it were but
justice that the fish should eat me. Now
I must back to the cabin, for I have matters there which crave my
"Nay, Sir Oliver, you had best bide with us, and still show your
ensign," Sir Nigel answered; "for, if I understand the matter aright,
we have but turned from one danger to the other."
"Good Master Hawtayne," cried the boatswain, rushing aft,
"the water comes in upon us apace. The
waves have driven in the sail wherewith we strove to stop the hole."
As he spoke the seamen came swarming on to the poop and the forecastle to
avoid the torrent which poured through the huge leak into the waist.
High above the roar of the wind and the clash of the sea rose the shrill
half-human cries of the horses, as they found the water rising rapidly around
"Stop it from without!" cried Hawtayne, seizing the end of the
wet sail with which the gap had been plugged.
"Speedily, my hearts, or we are gone!"
Swiftly they rove ropes to the corners, and then, rushing forward to the
bows, they lowered them under the keel, and drew them tight in such a way that
the sail should cover the outer face of the gap.
The force of the rush of water was checked by this obstacle, but it still
squirted plentifully from every side of it.
At the sides the horses were above the belly, and in the centre a man
from the poop could scarce touch the deck with a seven-foot spear.
The cog lay lower in the water and the waves splashed freely over the
"I fear that we can scarce bide upon this tack," cried
Hawtayne; "and yet the other will drive us on the rocks."
"Might we not haul down sail and wait for better times?"
suggested Sir Nigel.
"Nay, we should drift upon the rocks.
Thirty years have I been on the sea, and never yet in greater straits.
Yet we are in the hands of the Saints."
"Of whom," cried Sir Oliver, "I look more particularly to
St. James of Compostella, who hath already befriended us this day, and on whose
feast I hereby vow that I shall eat a second carp, if he will but interpose a
The wrack had thickened to seaward, and the coast was but a blurred line.
Two vague shadows in the offing showed where the galeasses rolled and
tossed upon the great Atlantic rollers, Hawtayne looked wistfully in their
"If they would but lie closer we might find safety, even should the
cog founder. You will bear me out
with good Master Witherton of Southampton that I have done all that a shipman
might. It would be well that you
should doff camail and greaves, Sir Nigel, for, by the black rood! it is like
enough that we shall have to swim for it."
"Nay," said the little knight, "it would be scarce fitting
that a cavalier should throw off his harness for the fear of every puff of wind
and puddle of water. I would rather
that my Company should gather round me here on the poop, where we might abide
together whatever God may be pleased to send.
But, certes, Master Hawtayne, for all that my sight is none of the best,
it is not the first time that I have seen that headland upon the left."
The seaman shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestly through the
haze and spray. Suddenly he threw up his arms and shouted aloud in his joy.
" 'Tis the point of La Tremblade!" he cried.
"I had not thought that we were as far as Oleron.
The Gironde lies before us, and once over the bar, and under shelter of
the Tour de Cordouan, all will be well with us.
Veer again, my hearts, and bring her to try with the main course!"
The sail swung round once more, and the cog, battered and torn and
well-nigh water-logged, staggered in for this haven of refuge.
A bluff cape to the north and a long spit to the south marked the mouth
of the noble river, with a low-lying island of silted sand in the centre, all
shrouded and curtained by the spume of the breakers.
A line of broken water traced the dangerous bar, which in clear day and
balmy weather has cracked the back of many a tall ship.
"There is a channel," said Hawtayne, "which was shown to
me by the Prince's own pilot. Mark
yonder tree upon the bank, and see the tower which rises behind it.
If these two be held in a line, even as we hold them now, it may be done,
though our ship draws two good ells more than when she put forth."
"God speed you, Master Hawtayne!" cried Sir Oliver.
"Twice have we come scathless out of peril, and now for the third
time I commend me to the blessed James of Compostella, to whom I vow---- "
"Nay, nay, old friend," whispered Sir Nigel.
"You are like to bring a judgment upon us with these vows, which no
living man could accomplish. Have I
not already heard you vow to eat two carp in one day, and now you would venture
upon a third?"
"I pray you that you will order the Company to lie down," cried
Hawtayne, who had taken the tiller and was gazing ahead with a fixed eye.
"In three minutes we shall either be lost or in safety."
Archers and seamen lay flat upon the deck, waiting in stolid silence for whatever fate might come. Hawtayne bent his weight upon the tiller, and crouched to see under the bellying sail. Sir Oliver and Sir Nigel stood erect with hands crossed in front of the poop. Down swooped the great cog into the narrow channel which was the portal to safety. On either bow roared the shallow bar. Right ahead one small lane of black swirling water marked the pilot's course. But true was the eye and firm the hand which guided. A dull scraping came from beneath, the vessel quivered and shook, at the waist, at the quarter, and behind sounded that grim roaring of the waters, and with a plunge the yellow cog was over the bar and speeding swiftly up the broad and tranquil estuary of the Gironde.
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