Sir Mortimer

fate. Baldry's great figure at their head, Baldry's great voice shouting encouragement, they strove to pass the trench, to rush upon and overwh

horns like stilettos, and strung from side to side with lianas strong as ropes to entangle, to bring prone upon the thorns the desperate men who strove in the snare. A small band won to the farther side, but the s

hrough the tunal--back to the Admiral

death could the whole gather the maimed, know the living from the dead? Barely might the uninjured save themselves, give support perhaps to some hurt and staggering comrade. Happy were the dead, for the fallen whose wounds were not mortal, perhaps the fate of the men of the Minion! Of the company which had come with Robert Baldry through the tun

them!--in that shadowy pass was not

e no answer. High and shrill as a woman's wail rang

said a Devon man, soft

om he had moulded himself--for the moment it was as though Sir Mortimer Ferne had cried encouragement to their sunken hearts, was beckoning them on to ultimate victory plucked from present defeat. A cheer, wave

safety, the Cygnet and the Phoenix close in shore, the Mere Honour and the Marigold in midstream. The ships in safety--then what meant those distant cries, that thrice repeated booming of a sig

tful explosion, and the great ship, torn from her anchorage, wrecked forever, a flaming hulk, a torch, a pyre, a potent of irremediable ruin, bore down the swift current and struck the Phoenix.... Once more the Mere Honour's cannon thundered loud appeal and warning. In the red light cast by her destroyer the galleon be

the English, but it was not the Spanish guns which had caused that retreat. Where were Robert Baldry and his men? What st

bert Baldry and his men? Were these they--this dwindled band staggering, leaping down from the heights, led by Henry Sedley, gray, exhausted, speaking in whispers or in strained, high voices? No time was there for explanation, bewildered conj

sked nor given. Nevil himself bore a charmed life, but many a gentleman adventurer, many a simple soldier or mariner gasped his last upon Spanish pike or sword. Not fifty paces from the river bank Henry Sedley received his quietus. He had fought as one i

fought for him here, so I wait for him in Christ His court. Tell my sister Damari

. Lost was the town, lost any hope of the fortress and what it contained, lost the Cygnet and the Phoenix, lost Henry Sedley and Robert Baldry and many a gallan

allegartos and the river slime--yet voyaging with the Cygnet--rushing, a pale accusing troop towards God's justice bar?... The night was waxing old, the dawn was coming. Upon the Mere Honour Baptist Manwood, a brave and honest soul who did his duty, steered hi

lly, as had spoken Francis Drake, to the gentlemen adventurers who had risked life and goods in this enterprise, and to the soldiers and mariners gathered in the waist; then listened in silence to the story of disaster. Nor Robert Baldry nor Henry Sedley was there to make report, but a grizzled man-at-arms told of the trap beyond the tunal into which

es the boat under our stern." He put up an uncertain hand to a ghastly wound in his forehead.... "Well, your Honor, as I was saying, they were Spaniards, after all, and a many of them, for they were hidden in the bottom of the boat. 'Dione,' says they, and I lean over the rail to see if 'twere black Humphrey clambering up and to know what was wanted.... After that I don't remember--b

vil, as I have hope of heaven, I swear I did guard that man as you bade

duty, Ambrose Wynch," spoke the

l without, and you know him for a stanch man.... When we heard the Mere Honour's guns, and the town rose against us who were left within it, and I and my handful were cutting our way out to join you, Walter got to m

h Walter?" sai

d his lieutenant, and sitting down

a long, shrill cry. Arden

he would have thrown himself overboard. I dou

he wealth of his discovery. The eyes of the two men followed his lean, brown finger.... Above the quay where boats made landing a sand-spit ran out from the tamarind-shadowed bank, and now in the red dawning the mist that clung to it lifted. A man who for an hour had lain heavily in the heavy shadow where

aving the chirurgeon and Robin-a-dale with the yet unconscious man, presently came forth to the Admiral and to Ambrose Wynch and asked for aqua vitae, then drew his hand across his brow and wiped away the cold sweat;

that churl and satyr yonder, may God

his unwonted passion. "Are we not here? Why is the boats

, gruffly, and pointed to

lls were ringing, on the plain were figures moving; from the fortress boomed a gun, and the sound was like a taunt, was like a blow upon the cheek. Swift answer made the cannon of both ships, and the sullen, defiant roar awoke the echoes. Taunt might they give for taunt. Three ships had the English taken, three towns had they sacked; in sea-fights and in land-fights they had been victors! Where were the caravels, where the ruined battery at the river's mouth, where the great magazine of Nueva Cordoba? Where was Antonio de Castro?--and the galleon San José was lost to friend

ind in this murky segment of life. But to the strained senses of the men upon whom, as yet, had hardly fallen the upas languor of accepted defeat, before whose eyes, whether shut or open, yet passed insistent visions of last night's events, like an echo, like a shade, old presences made themselves felt. Swinging lanterns dimly lit the cabin of the Mere Honour, and in ranks the shadows rose and fell along its swaying walls. From without, the sound of the sea came like an inarticulate murmur of far-away voices. There were vacant places at the table, and upon the long benches that ran beneath the windows; yet, indefinably, there seemed

uite broken, advanced with agitation. "Mortimer, Mortimer!" he cried, and would have put his arms about his friend, but Ferne stayed him with a gesture and a look that none might understand. Behind him came Robin-a-dale, slipped beneath his outst

Ferne, and the

e us like the shade of him who was Mortimer Ferne," he cried, his dark face working. "Sit here a

Giles Arden--why are you here upon the Mere Honour? The Cygnet is your ship." None answering him, his eyes travelled to others of the company. "You, Darrell, and

lled. A moment passed then. "My friend, my friend!" cried N

en through the fires of hell. Certain things were told me there--bu

ttle of our plan and escaping by some secret way, sold us to disaster such as has not been since Fayal in the Azores! For on land we fought to no avail, and by treachery the Spaniards seized the Cygnet, slew the men upon her, and fired her powder

bert Baldry?

now not. He and a hundred men came not forth from the tunal

s Henry

that bitter fight upon the plain!" Arden made reply. "I w

an who leaned so heavily against the do

o. He read their thought and smiled, but his eyes that smiled not met Arden's. "Gre

utiful mask fitted to tragedy too utter for aught but stillness. He wore no doublet, and his shirt was torn and stained with blood, but in last and subtlest mockery De Guardiola had restored to him his sword. He drew it now, held the blade across his knee, and with one effort

ast a voice--Ambrose Wynch's--broke the silence that had grown too great to bear. "It was Francis Sark," he said, and again monotonously, "It was Francis Sark--it was Francis Sark." Another swore with a great oath, "

he deeds of a man's lifetime--and marshalled them against this monstrous accusation of a sick and whirling hour. "You know not what you say!" spoke Nev

RTEST SHRIFT TH

rough the day, I bore it no longer. They loosed me and dashed water in my face, and Luiz de Guardiola said over to me the words that I had spoken. Then he went forth and laid his snares.... And so Robert Baldry is lost, he and a hundred men besides? And Spaniards coming down the river took the Cygnet beca

overing his eyes with his hand. "But Franc

other court than this, no further mercy than my present death.... John Nevil, for t

is head. "Mortimer, Mortimer. Mortimer!" cried

or, am I not? Then do to me what was done to Thomas Doughty. Only haste

s eyes unclosed. The boy hung over him, and he smiled upon him, smiled with eye and lip. "Ay, ay, ay, Robin," he said, "we'll to the court! And sweep away these rhymes, for the queen of all my songs dwells there, and I shall look into her eyes

aster!" cr

and we'll stoop from the saddle and gather up Love! And when the bubble has vanished and Love is dead there's Honor left!" He leaned forward, seeing and hearing where was neither sound nor sight. The

who know a secret must keep it, else.... Robin! Robin, rid me of these babblers. She's coming!--all in white--like blown spray--but she bears no roses. Lilies, lilies!--white samite like her robe--but her eyes are turned away. Let her pass, ye fools! She's the word of the night!" He staggered to his feet, swaying forward, clutching at the empty air as at a man's throat, a

hat ultimate shore did he drift that those who watched him saw the shadow on his face. When the shadow was deep they waited with held breath; when it somewhat lifted they sorrowed that the tide had brought him back. He was of those changelings from a fortunate land to whom Love clings when Faith has covered her head and tur

nt very swift, pale paradises opened to him where he lay for centuries, nor hot nor cold, neither waking nor sleeping, not in joy and not in sorrow. Then the stopped pendulum swung again, and the dreams came fast and faster. At times his brain turned from its mad clash with gigantic, formless, elemental things to rest in the beaten ways. They that listened heard the adventurer speak, heard the courtier and the poet and the lover, but never once the traitor. Of the fortress of Nueva Cordoba and of what had happened therein, of a Spaniard, noble but in name, of an English knight and leader w

pphire round it occurred to him to put forth a wasted hand, touch a sun-embrowned one, and whisper, "Robin!" It was a day later, the ships nearing the Grand Canary, and land bi