Saying this, the knight took a cordial farewell of Master Gresham and of Lady Anne, giving Ernst a kind shake of the hand.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
A STORM AT SEA.
The shades of evening had settled down over the great City, the only lights being those of the lanterns of the costermongers" stalls scattered up and down in various directions, and the occasional glare of a link, as the citizens went to and fro from each other"s houses.
Another knock was heard at Master Gresham"s door.
"A stranger desires to see you, sir," said the porter. "He declines giving his name, but he says you know him, and will, he is sure, greet him kindly."
"What is he like?" asked Master Gresham. "I cannot admit strangers.
Beg him to write his name on this tablet; but do not tell him that I am within till I hear who he is."
This caution, as may be supposed, was not unnecessary in those dangerous times; for though Master Gresham had had the a.s.surance of Sir John Leigh that he need no longer apprehend danger, he yet knew the treachery of which Bishop Gardiner was capable, and that, did he wish to get rid of him, he would not hesitate to do so, in spite of the support he might be receiving from other friends. The tablet was soon brought back.
"Admit him--admit him instantly," said Master Gresham, as soon as he saw the name; and, rising from his seat as the stranger entered, he stretched forth both his hands.
"My dear friend, Master John Foxe, I greet you heartily," he said, leading him to a chair. "My wife, here is one whom I have known from my youth upwards--a true and bold champion of the faith. And what is your pleasure, Master Foxe? it would be mine to aid you if I had the power."
"In troth, Master Gresham, it is to advise me how I can best leave this fair kingdom of England, and to help me in so doing," answered the visitor. "I had hoped that a humble man like me might have escaped persecution, but I have received notice that if I remain my life will have to pay the penalty; so I am about to put the seas between myself and our sovereign Lady and her fire-loving Bishop; for although I am ready to burn, if called on to witness to the faith, yet I see no reason why I should not fly from danger, if by so doing I may live to bear a faithful testimony in after years."
"You speak wisely, Master Foxe," said Master Gresham. "Even now I am about to start for the Netherlands; and we will bear each other company.
The wind holds from the north, and I propose therefore taking ship from Ipswich. We may thus speedily reach a port in Flanders, whence we can travel on to Antwerp. You may there for a time as a foreigner be safe from persecution under my protection, unless you take to public teaching and preaching. In that case I should be unable to protect you."
"Thank thee, my friend," answered Master Foxe. "I look to One for protection from man"s malice more powerful than man himself; but while I am in your company I will follow your wishes, albeit it is hard when occasion offers not to speak to our fellow-men of G.o.d"s love and mercy to man as shown in His Gospel. I would ask you to afford your protection, not only to me, but to my wife and children; for I would not leave them behind, lest they also become exposed to the malice of those who hate the truth."
Master Foxe had wisely sent his family on a day"s stage beyond London, having been greatly a.s.sisted by his friend the Duke of Norfolk. He had rendered him all the aid in his power, and supplied all the articles for his voyage.
Master Gresham and his company set forth the next morning at an early hour. They journeyed as usual on horseback, without making more show than needful, each man, however, being well-armed with sword and arquebuse, so that, should they be attacked by robbers, they might defend themselves. No robbers appeared, but soon after they left London two persons, on sleek, well-fed steeds, were seen riding at a distance behind them. They wore long cloaks; their features concealed greatly by their wide-topped hats and the coifs they wore beneath. When the travellers stopped these men stopped also, and when they reached a hostel the strangers took up their abode in the same, keeping at the farther end of the table, where they, however, might hear what was spoken by the guests. At other times no notice might have been taken of them, but after the warning Master Foxe had received, he naturally began to suspect that they had some object in view which might interfere with his liberty. He therefore, like a wise man, kept his tongue mostly silent when they were within hearing. The matter might have remained in doubt, but Ernst, on one occasion slipping round where they sat talking, so it seemed, earnestly to one another, had the means of observing the countenance of one of them. Coming back, he whispered into the ear of the Lady Anne, "I thought so from the first: it is Father Overton, the very priest who brought the accusation against me and A"Dale. He is one of Bishop Bonner"s runners, that is clear. His presence bodes us no good. It is well to know our enemies, to escape their malice, though we should wish to do them no harm."
"You have acted wisely, Ernst; keep silence, and do not stray from us, though I suspect that the object of the priest in following us is to try and lay hold of Master Foxe. He would prove more valuable game than you are, my boy."
Ernst said he would warn Master Foxe, and did so. The preacher thanked him.
"I thought as much," he said; "but One mighty to save watches over us.
We will go on fearlessly, trusting to Him."
Ernst trembled at the thought of again getting into the power of the priest, and kept carefully with his friends, lest by any chance he might be carried off.
The next day the priest and his companion were seen following as before, not knowing, perchance, that their character had been discovered.
Master Gresham showed no little discomfort at seeing them; still, to avoid them was impossible. He and his companions therefore travelled on steadily, trying to heed them as little as possible, and saying nothing which might give them an excuse for arresting any of the party.
Master Gresham had already sent on to secure a vessel, which was in readiness for their reception on their arrival. They were not alone, however, for several other persons who had become conspicuous for their Protestant principles during the reign of King Edward had either received warning that their lives were in danger, or, knowing themselves to have acted often in opposition to the principles of the new Queen, had thought it wise to escape from her anger. Thus, a very large number were collected on board the galley. Ere the sails were hoisted, Master Foxe summoned them together, and entreated them to join him in prayer to G.o.d that they might escape from the malice of their enemies, and find a home whither they were going, where they could worship Him in spirit and in truth. They failed not also to speak of their grat.i.tude at having escaped from the danger which threatened them.
Then the seamen came on board, the heavy anchor was hove up, and the vessel stood away from the sh.o.r.e. The weather, however, was threatening; dark clouds flew rapidly across the sky. The wind, blowing strong, was increasing. The danger to be found at sea was great; yet the pa.s.sengers entreated the captain to continue the voyage--they dreaded having again to land. Already some of their friends had been seized and cast into prison; they knew that such might be their fate should they remain on sh.o.r.e.
The arrival of the priest at Ipswich, even though he was disguised, had become known, and it was suspected that his object was no good one. The sh.o.r.es of England were rapidly fading from view, but the wind continued to increase. The waves rose high on either side of the vessel, tipped with foam, and threatening every moment to break down over her deck; still she struggled on. The seamen made all secure, and prayed the pa.s.sengers to go below. Ernst, however, continued on deck, holding firmly to the shrouds. There was another person near him who stood up, securing himself in the same way: it was Master Foxe. Although the wind howled in the rigging, the waves roared round on either side, and the spray came dashing in thick showers over them; although the sky was dark, and the waters around were troubled, the countenance of the preacher was calm and undismayed. He gazed on the sh.o.r.es of England; it was his native land, and he loved it well. Now he looked up at the threatening sky, and along over the dark, foam-topped seas. He was going forth an exile, perchance never to return, and yet he felt that rather would he trust the threatening ocean than the tender mercies of those who now had sway in England.
The captain came to him at length.
"You seem, good sir, a leading man among my pa.s.sengers," he observed.
"I fear me much, that if we attempt to continue the voyage, my stout ship may be overwhelmed, and we may together go with her to the bottom of the ocean. I fear me, therefore, that we must return, and wait till the gale has subsided."
"I would pray you to continue on the voyage," answered Master Foxe.
"Let us trust to Him who rules the waves and winds. He will not allow us to perish."
"But we must trust to our own right judgment, sir," answered the captain. "Now, as a seaman, I know that the peril of proceeding is very fearful indeed, and therefore I opine that we should not tempt G.o.d by exposing ourselves to it."
"You speak justly, captain," answered Master Foxe. "As a good seaman, knowing the danger, you are right not to expose those under your charge to it. Still, I for one would rather trust myself into the hands of G.o.d, during such a gale as this, than run back and put ourselves into the power of such persons as now rule our fair land of England."
"You speak too truly," answered the captain. "We will hold on yet a little longer; but should the gale continue, we must, to save the vessel and our lives, put back to sh.o.r.e; as an honest man I cannot act otherwise."
Not many minutes had pa.s.sed, when a furious blast struck the vessel.
Over she heeled, the waters rushing in on one side, and seeming about to overwhelm her.
"Hold on for your lives!" shouted the captain. "Put up the helm! ease away the after sheets!"
Slowly the vessel came round, and ran before the blast. Before she had been struggling with the seas, but now she fled before them, though even then they hissed and bubbled up on either side, as if eager to hold her in their grasp. On, on she flew, faster and faster. Once more the sh.o.r.es of England appeared in sight. Anxiously the captain and his mate looked out to try and distinguish the landmarks, that they might steer the vessel so as to arrive at the entrance of the port of Harwich. The shades of evening were, however, coming on, a mist hung over the land, so as to render objects scarcely discernible. The pa.s.sengers had begun to gather on deck; for, feeling the movement of the vessel more easy, they believed that the storm had abated, and that they were again in safety. Various were their exclamations when they found the sea raging as furiously as ever, and the dark clouds hanging over their heads.
Among those who had come on deck was Master Gresham. He held little Richard by the hand. Too often had he crossed the Channel to be surprised at what he saw, and yet perhaps he, more than any one else besides the captain, knew the dangerous position of the vessel.
Calmly he consulted with him as to the best course to pursue. Another person also stood calm and collected as Master Gresham: it was the minister, Master Foxe. Ernst watched him with admiration, as even amidst the roughest tossings of the ship a smile of confidence played over his features. And yet as the vessel rose on the summit of a sea, and then rushed down again into the hollow, the waters hissing and foaming high above her bulwarks, it seemed indeed as if she would never rise again, but must sink down, down, till she reached the depths of the ocean. At this time many gave way, unable to refrain from showing their fear by loud cries. Yet then the voice and look of Master Foxe would rea.s.sure them. "Fear not, my friends," he exclaimed; "if ye are Christ"s, if ye have not only turned away from the idolatries of Rome, but have given your hearts to Him, you are safe in His keeping. Dread nothing therefore: He will, if He thinks fit, take you safely to land, or if not, will call you to Himself, to be with Him where He is. Now is the time to show your trust in the loving Saviour, all-powerful to save you from temporal death as from death eternal."
Thus the faithful minister continued speaking, till all who heard him felt their faith and courage revive, and no longer did any give way to expressions of fear. Still the danger continued to increase. In vain the captain endeavoured to pierce the thick gloom. No land could he discern; no beacon-fire burst forth to show of a friendly harbour. Lady Anne remained below, and thither Master Gresham conveyed little Richard.
"Should there be danger of the vessel striking, I will come for you," he said: "wife, I will save you or perish with you. Ernst, to your charge we commend our boy; you are a brave swimmer, and may be able to rescue him."
"Oh! my dear lord, do rather try and save our boy; leave me to my fate, if the fearful danger you speak of arrives!" exclaimed Lady Anne.
To this Master Gresham would not consent.
"No," he said, "I cannot let you, my wife, perish; and our boy is as safe in the keeping of Ernst as he would be in mine. I know that he will save the boy, or lose his own life in the attempt."
Ernst felt very proud on hearing these remarks, and gladly promised to watch over his friend Richard.
Onward rushed the vessel. At length it seemed to those who stood on deck that the wind did not blow so furiously as before. A short time pa.s.sed, and it became evident that the gale was abating. Still, those who were acquainted with the dangers of the sea knew full well that, should the vessel be cast on the beach, how great would be the peril of their lives. The hardy seamen were at their posts. The captain ordered all to keep silence. One of the mates went forward, looking out for the land. The captain stood near the helmsman. In a clear voice he issued his orders. The sea as well as the wind had decreased. Now the sails were taken in one by one.
"Stand by with the anchor," cried the captain. "Let go!"
A plunge was heard, and the hempen cable flew quickly out. The vessel rode head to wind with her stern to the sh.o.r.e, not perceived by any but the seamen, so hardly could a landsman"s eye pierce the thick gloom around. Still she plunged heavily into the seas which rolled towards it. Now and then the captain shouted to his mates--"Does she hold?"
The answer was satisfactory. Yet it seemed scarcely possible that iron anchor and hempen cable could prevent a ship forced by those furious billows from driving onward to the sh.o.r.e. Thus the night pa.s.sed away.
No stars were seen; no moon to cheer the voyagers. Anxiously they waited for the dawn. It came at last. Then, for the first time, they saw the sh.o.r.e stretching out for some distance in the west--a long line, on which the raging breakers burst furiously without a break. Once more the anchor was lifted, the sails were set, and the vessel stood closer in.
A small creek appeared, into which the captain thought the boat could run. Only a few, however, could be carried at a time. The boat was lowered into the water, but not without difficulty could the pa.s.sengers be placed within it. The women and children were first lowered, and all entreated that Master Foxe would accompany them. He was unwilling, however, to quit the vessel; and not till warmly pressed by all round him would he consent, believing that it might be for the common good.
Ernst remained with his patron. Anxiously they watched the boat which contained the Lady Anne and little Richard. Away it went, urged on by the st.u.r.dy arms of the bold seamen. One of the mates, an experienced mariner, steered the boat. Now she sank into the hollow of the sea, now she was seen rising to the summit of the wave, the foam dancing round her. Once more she was hid from sight. Now she rose again. Thus she proceeded onward. As may be supposed, Master Foxe employed all his powers to cheer and comfort those with him, for often it seemed to them, as they saw the dark seas rushing after them, that their frail boat would be overwhelmed; or when they looked towards the sh.o.r.e, and beheld the white curling waves, they thought it impossible she could ever pa.s.s through them in safety. Thus the boat rushed on. Now she rose on the summit of a sea. The st.u.r.dy mate stood up to gaze around him. Firmly he grasped the tiller. Sinking down again, the boat glided into the very mouth of the little river, and arriving at a steep bank the mate urged his pa.s.sengers to land speedily, that he might return to bring their companions to the sh.o.r.e. He had to make two other trips. Master Gresham and Ernst were the last to leave the ship, the captain promising, should he be able to weather out the gale, to return for them. They also safely reached the sh.o.r.e. Not far from where they landed a bridle road pa.s.sed by, leading from the south. Master Gresham instantly set forth with Ernst and others to seek for some farmhouse where the party might be accommodated. They had not gone far when two hors.e.m.e.n were perceived coming along the road. As they drew near, they and the voyagers exchanged looks, and knew each other, even before they had time to utter greetings, had they so desired. In an instant Master Gresham recognised Father Overton, the priest, and his companion, who had followed them to Ipswich.