FOR two days the yellow cog ran swiftly before a northeasterlywind, and on the dawn of the third the high land of Ushant laylike a mist upon the shimmering sky-line. There came a plump ofrain towards mid-day and the breeze died down, but it freshenedagain before nightfall, and Goodwin Hawtayne veered his sheet andheld head for the south. Next morning they had passed BelleIsle, and ran through the midst of a fleet of transportsreturning from Guienne. Sir Nigel Loring and Sir OliverButtesthorn at once hung their shields over the side, anddisplayed their pennons as was the custom, noting with thekeenest interest the answering symbols which told the names ofthe cavaliers who had been constrained by ill health or wounds toleave the prince at so critical a time.

That evening a great dun-colored cloud banked up in the west, andan anxious man was Goodwin Hawtayne, for a third part of his crewhad been slain, and half the remainder were aboard the galleys,so that, with an injured ship, he was little fit to meet such astorm as sweeps over those waters. All night it blew in shortfitful puffs, heeling the great cog over until the water curledover her lee bulwarks. As the wind still freshened the yard waslowered half way down the mast in the morning. Alleyne,wretchedly ill and weak, with his head still ringing from theblow which he had received, crawled up upon deck, Water-swept andaslant, it was preferable to the noisome, rat-haunted dungeonswhich served as cabins. There, clinging to the stout halliardsof the sheet, he gazed with amazement at the long lines of blackwaves, each with its curling ridge of foam, racing in endlesssuccession from out the inexhaustible west. A huge sombre cloud,flecked with livid blotches, stretched over the whole seawardsky-line, with long ragged streamers whirled out in front of it.Far behind them the two galleys labored heavily, now sinkingbetween the rollers until their yards were level with the waves,and again shooting up with a reeling, scooping motion until everyspar and rope stood out hard against the sky. On the left thelow-lying land stretched in a dim haze, rising here and thereinto 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 abugle in the ears of the youth of England. The land where theirfathers had bled, the home of chivalry and of knightly deeds, thecountry of gallant men, of courtly women, of princely buildings,of the wise, the polished and the sainted. There it lay, sostill and gray beneath the drifting wrack--the home of thingsnoble and of things shameful--the theatre where a new name mightbe made or an old one marred. From his bosom to his lips camethe crumpled veil, and he breathed a vow that if valor andgoodwill could raise him to his lady's side, then death aloneshould hold him back from her. His thoughts were still in thewoods of Minstead and the old armory of Twynham Castle, when thehoarse voice of the master-shipman brought them back once more tothe Bay of Biscay.

"By my troth, young sir," he said, "you are as long in the faceas the devil at a christening, and I cannot marvel at it, for Ihave 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. "Letthe shipman see to it. It is the master-shipman's affair. Putit all upon good Master Hawtayne! Never had I so much care sincefirst I blew trumpet and showed cartel at the west gate ofSouthampton."

"What is amiss then?" asked Alleyne, for the man's words were asgusty as the weather.

"Amiss, quotha? Here am I with but half my mariners, and a holein the ship where that twenty-devil stone struck us big enough tofit the fat widow of Northam through. It is well enough on thistack, 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 pickledlike 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 getfrom him. Then there is Sir Oliver. 'Fry them in oil with adressing of Gascony,' quoth he, and then swore at me because Ihad not been the cook. 'Walawa,' thought I, 'mad master, soberman'--so away forward to the archers. Harrow and alas! but theywere worse than the others."

"Would they not help you then?"

"Nay, they sat tway and tway at a board, him that they callAylward and the great red-headed man who snapped the Norman'sarm-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 blackgalliard. 'Le diable t'emporte,' says Aylward. 'A five, a fourand the main,' shouted the big man, with a voice like the flap ofa sail. Hark to them now, young sir, and say if I speak notsooth."

As he spoke, there sounded high above the shriek of the gale andthe 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 thingis done, if two hands may do it."

"Nay, nay, your head I can see is still totty, and i' faithlittle head would you have, had your bassinet not stood yourfriend. All that may be done is already carried out, for we havestuffed the gape with sails and corded it without and within.Yet when we bale our bowline and veer the sheet our lives willhang upon the breach remaining blocked. See how yonder headlandlooms upon us through the mist! We must tack within three arrowflights, or we may find a rock through our timbers. Now, St.Christopher be praised! here is Sir Nigel, with whom I mayconfer."

"I prythee that you will pardon me," said the knight, clutchinghis way along the bulwark. "I would not show lack of courtesytoward a worthy man, but I was deep in a matter of some weight,concerning which, Alleyne, I should be glad of your rede. Ittouches the question of dimidiation or impalement in the coat ofmine uncle, Sir John Leighton of Shropshire, who took unto wifethe widow of Sir Henry Oglander of Nunwell. The case has beenmuch debated by pursuivants and kings-of-arms. But how is itwith you, master shipman?"

"Ill enough, my fair lord. The cog must go about anon, and Iknow not how we may keep the water out of her."

"Go call Sir Oliver!" said Sir Nigel, and presently the portlyknight made his way all astraddle down the slippery deck.

"By my soul, master-shipman, this passes all patience!" he criedwrathfully. "If this ship of yours must needs dance and skiplike a clown at a kermesse, then I pray you that you will put meinto one of these galeasses. I had but sat down to a flask ofmalvesie 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 andthe flask in my lap, and then as I stoop to clip it there comesanother cursed cherk, and there is a mortress of brawn stuck fastto the nape of my neck. At this moment I have two pages coursingafter it from side to side, like hounds behind a leveret. Neverdid living pig gambol more lightly. But you have sent for me,Sir Nigel?"

"I would fain have your rede, Sir Oliver, for Master Hawtaynehath fears that when we veer there may come danger from the holein our side."

"Then do not veer," quoth Sir Oliver hastily. "And now, fairsir, I must hasten back to see how my rogues have fared with thebrawn."

"Nay, but this will scarce suffice," cried the shipman. "If wedo not veer we will be upon the rocks within the hour."

"Then veer," said Sir Oliver. "There is my rede; and now, SirNigel, I must crave----"

At this instant, however, a startled shout rang out from twoseamen upon the forecastle. "Rocks!" they yelled, stabbing intothe air with their forefingers. "Rocks beneath our very bows!"Through the belly of a great black wave, not one hundred paces tothe front of them, there thrust forth a huge jagged mass of brownstone, which spouted spray as though it were some crouchingmonster, while a dull menacing boom and roar filled the air.

"Yare! yare!" screamed Goodwin Hawtayne, flinging himself uponthe long pole which served as a tiller. "Cut the halliard! Haulher over! Lay her two courses to the wind!"

Over swung the great boom, and the cog trembled and quiveredwithin five spear-lengths of the breakers.

"She can scarce draw clear," cried Hawtayne, with his eyes fromthe sail to the seething line of foam. "May the holy Julianstand by us and the thrice-sainted Christopher!"

"If there be such peril, Sir Oliver," quoth Sir Nigel, "it wouldbe very knightly and fitting that we should show our pennons. Ipray you. Edricson, that you will command my guidon-bearer toput forward my banner."

"And sound the trumpets!" cried Sir Oliver. "In manus tuas,Domine! I am in the keeping of James of Compostella, to whoseshrine I shall make pilgrimage, and in whose honor I vow that Iwill eat a carp each year upon his feast-day. Mon Dieu, but thewaves roar! How is it with us now, master-shipman?"

"We draw! We draw!" cried Hawtayne, with his eyes still fixedupon 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 longwhite curling sheet of wood was planed off from her side fromwaist to poop by a jutting horn of the rock. At the same instantshe lay suddenly over, the sail drew full, and she plungedseawards 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 SouthamptonWater once more. Cheerily, my hearts! Pull yarely on thebowline!"

"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 butjustice that the fish should eat me. Now I must back to thecabin, for I have matters there which crave my attention."

"Nay, Sir Oliver, you had best bide with us, and still show yourensign," Sir Nigel answered; "for, if I understand the matteraright, we have but turned from one danger to the other."

"Good Master Hawtayne," cried the boatswain, rushing aft, "thewater comes in upon us apace. The waves have driven in the sailwherewith we strove to stop the hole." As he spoke the seamencame swarming on to the poop and the forecastle to avoid thetorrent which poured through the huge leak into the waist. Highabove the roar of the wind and the clash of the sea rose theshrill half-human cries of the horses, as they found the waterrising rapidly around them.

"Stop it from without!" cried Hawtayne, seizing the end of thewet sail with which the gap had been plugged. "Speedily, myhearts, or we are gone!" Swiftly they rove ropes to the corners,and then, rushing forward to the bows, they lowered them underthe keel, and drew them tight in such a way that the sail shouldcover the outer face of the gap. The force of the rush of waterwas checked by this obstacle, but it still squirted plentifullyfrom every side of it. At the sides the horses were above thebelly, and in the centre a man from the poop could scarce touchthe deck with a seven-foot spear. The cog lay lower in the waterand the waves splashed freely over the weather bulwark.

"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 beenon the sea, and never yet in greater straits. Yet we are in thehands 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 second time."

The wrack had thickened to seaward, and the coast was but ablurred line. Two vague shadows in the offing showed where thegaleasses rolled and tossed upon the great Atlantic rollers,Hawtayne looked wistfully in their direction.

"If they would but lie closer we might find safety, even shouldthe cog founder. You will bear me out with good Master Withertonof Southampton that I have done all that a shipman might. Itwould be well that you should doff camail and greaves, Sir Nigel,for, by the black rood! it is like enough that we shall have toswim for it."

"Nay," said the little knight, "it would be scarce fitting that acavalier should throw off his harness for the fear of every puffof wind and puddle of water. I would rather that my Companyshould gather round me here on the poop, where we might abidetogether whatever God may be pleased to send. But, certes,Master Hawtayne, for all that my sight is none of the best, it isnot the first time that I have seen that headland upon the left."

The seaman shaded his eyes with his hand, and gazed earnestlythrough the haze and spray. Suddenly he threw up his arms andshouted aloud in his joy.

" 'Tis the point of La Tremblade!" he cried. "I had not thoughtthat we were as far as Oleron. The Gironde lies before us, andonce over the bar, and under shelter of the Tour de Cordouan, allwill be well with us. Veer again, my hearts, and bring her totry with the main course!"

The sail swung round once more, and the cog, battered and tornand well-nigh water-logged, staggered in for this haven ofrefuge. A bluff cape to the north and a long spit to the southmarked the mouth of the noble river, with a low-lying island ofsilted sand in the centre, all shrouded and curtained by thespume of the breakers. A line of broken water traced thedangerous bar, which in clear day and balmy weather has crackedthe back of many a tall ship.

"There is a channel," said Hawtayne, "which was shown to me bythe Prince's own pilot. Mark yonder tree upon the bank, and seethe 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 drawstwo good ells more than when she put forth."

"God speed you, Master Hawtayne!" cried Sir Oliver. "Twice havewe come scathless out of peril, and now for the third time Icommend me to the blessed James of Compostella, to whom I vow----"

"Nay, nay, old friend," whispered Sir Nigel. "You are like tobring a judgment upon us with these vows, which no living mancould accomplish. Have I not already heard you vow to eat twocarp in one day, and now you would venture upon a third?"

"I pray you that you will order the Company to lie down," criedHawtayne, who had taken the tiller and was gazing ahead with afixed eye. "In three minutes we shall either be lost or insafety."

Archers and seamen lay flat upon the deck, waiting in stolidsilence for whatever fate might come. Hawtayne bent his weightupon the tiller, and crouched to see under the bellying sail.Sir Oliver and Sir Nigel stood erect with hands crossed in frontof the poop. Down swooped the great cog into the narrow channelwhich was the portal to safety. On either bow roared the shallowbar. Right ahead one small lane of black swirling water markedthe pilot's course. But true was the eye and firm the hand whichguided. A dull scraping came from beneath, the vessel quiveredand shook, at the waist, at the quarter, and behind sounded thatgrim roaring of the waters, and with a plunge the yellow cog wasover the bar and speeding swiftly up the broad and tranquilestuary of the Gironde.