Westward Ho! Or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh, Knight, of Burrough, in the County of Devon, in the Reign of Her Most Glorious Majesty Queen Elizabeth by - (acx book reading .TXT) 📖

The strange sail passed out of sight behind the hill of Appledore; and then there rose into the quiet evening air a cheer, as from a hundred throats. Mrs. Leigh stood still, and listened. Another gun thundered among the hills; and then another cheer.

It might have been twenty minutes before the vessel hove in sight again round the dark rocks of the Hubbastone, as she turned up the Bideford river. Mrs. Leigh had stood that whole time perfectly motionless, a pale and scarcely breathing statue, her eyes fixed upon the Viking's rock.

Round the Hubbastone she came at last. There was music on board, drums and fifes, shawms and trumpets, which wakened ringing echoes from every knoll of wood and slab of slate. And as she opened full on Burrough House, another cheer burst from her crew, and rolled up to the hills from off the silver waters far below, full a mile away.

Mrs. Leigh walked quickly toward the house, and called her maid,—

“Grace, bring me my hood. Master Amyas is come home!”

“No, surely? O joyful sound! Praised and blessed be the Lord, then; praised and blessed be the Lord! But, madam, however did you know that?”

“I heard his voice on the river; but I did not hear Mr. Frank's with him, Grace!”

“Oh, be sure, madam, where the one is the other is. They'd never part company. Both come home or neither, I'll warrant. Here's your hood, madam.”

And Mrs. Leigh, with Grace behind her, started with rapid steps towards Bideford.

Was it true? Was it a dream? Had the divine instinct of the mother enabled her to recognize her child's voice among all the rest, and at that enormous distance; or was her brain turning with the long effort of her supernatural calm?

Grace asked herself, in her own way, that same question many a time between Burrough and Bideford. When they arrived on the quay the question answered itself.

As they came down Bridgeland Street (where afterwards the tobacco warehouses for the Virginia trade used to stand, but which then was but a row of rope-walks and sailmakers' shops), they could see the strange ship already at anchor in the river. They had just reached the lower end of the street, when round the corner swept a great mob, sailors, women, 'prentices, hurrahing, questioning, weeping, laughing: Mrs. Leigh stopped; and behold, they stopped also.

“Here she is!” shouted some one; “here's his mother!”

“His mother? Not their mother!” said Mrs. Leigh to herself, and turned very pale; but that heart was long past breaking.

The next moment the giant head and shoulders of Amyas, far above the crowd, swept round the corner.

“Make a way! Make room for Madam Leigh!”—And Amyas fell on his knees at her feet.

She threw her arms round his neck, and bent her fair head over his, while sailors, 'prentices, and coarse harbor-women were hushed into holy silence, and made a ring round the mother and the son.

Mrs. Leigh asked no question. She saw that Amyas was alone.

At last he whispered, “I would have died to save him, mother, if I could.”

“You need not tell me that, Amyas Leigh, my son.”

Another silence.

“How did he die?” whispered Mrs. Leigh.

“He is a martyr. He died in the——”

Amyas could say no more.

“The Inquisition?”

“Yes.”

A strong shudder passed through Mrs. Leigh's frame, and then she lifted up her head.

“Come home, Amyas. I little expected such an honor—such an honor—ha! ha! and such a fair young martyr, too; a very St. Stephen! God, have mercy on me; and let me not go mad before these folk, when I ought to be thanking Thee for Thy great mercies! Amyas, who is that?”

And she pointed to Ayacanora, who stood close behind Amyas, watching with keen eyes the whole.

“She is a poor wild Indian girl—my daughter, I call her. I will tell you her story hereafter.”

“Your daughter? My grand-daughter, then. Come hither, maiden, and be my grand-daughter.”

Ayacanora came obedient, and knelt down, because she had seen Amyas kneel.

“God forbid, child! kneel not to me. Come home, and let me know whether I am sane or mazed, alive or dead.”

And drawing her hood over her face, she turned to go back, holding Amyas tight by one hand, and Ayacanora by the other.

The crowd let them depart some twenty yards in respectful silence, and then burst into a cheer which made the old town ring.

Mrs. Leigh stopped suddenly.

“I had forgotten, Amyas. You must not let me stand in the way of your duty. Where are your men?”

“Kissed to death by this time; all of them, that is, who are left.”

“Left?”

“We went out a hundred, mother, and we came home forty-four—if we are at home. Is it a dream, mother? Is this you? and this old Bridgeland Street again? As I live, there stands Evans the smith, at his door, tankard in hand, as he did when I was a boy!”

The brawny smith came across the street to them; but stopped when he saw Amyas, but no Frank.

“Better one than neither, madam!” said he, trying a rough comfort. Amyas shook his hand as he passed him; but Mrs. Leigh neither heard nor saw him nor any one.

“Mother,” said Amyas, when they were now past the causeway, “we are rich for life.”

“Yes; a martyr's death was the fittest for him.”

“I have brought home treasure untold.”

“What, my boy?”

“Treasure untold. Cary has promised to see to it to-night.”

“Very well. I would that he had slept at our house. He was a kindly lad, and loved Frank. When did he?”—

“Three years ago, and more. Within two months of our sailing.”

“Ah! Yes, he told me so.”

“Told you so?”

“Yes; the dear lad has often come to see me in my sleep; but you never came. I guessed