George Gibbs - In Search of Mademoiselle

“Morbleu, non,” said one, “I am as dry as the main yard of the Trinity .”

“To the Great Griffin , then,” said Goddard loudly, “an’ the good crowns the San Cristobal sells for, with some for Bess and some for we! Look you! See how they glitter – less bright for the black head on ’em, but welcome enough in the taproom – where with a whole heart we can drink confusion to the Spanish king and every other sneaking cat of a – ”

“Sh – ” said Smith in a low voice. He had just reason enough to know that they were disobeying orders. “For the love o’ God stow your gaff, lad, there are like as not some of the thumb-screwing whelps even here.” But the crowd of seamen were amused at the Englishman and would not be denied. They set their flagons down with a clatter to hear Job Goddard, with the help of one of their number, in a bluff, hearty way tell of the taking of the San Cristobal . The story was strangely interlarded with oaths and devout expressions, half French, half English, but all bearing the mark of approval among the Huguenot company, who did me the honor to rattle their pots again right merrily at the account of my wrestling bout with the Spaniard.

Salvation Smith, enjoying in his own way the importance of his friend and ally, who for once had drowned out his own eloquence, cast aside all caution and sought to enhance the effect of Job’s remarks by frequent and timely expressions of approval. He walked about, smiling broadly, causing the pots to be filled as often as they fell half empty.

So intent was the crowd upon the performance of the seaman Goddard and so wrapped up in their drinking bouts that they failed to notice three men who sat at a corner table sipping at their liquor. All three listened intently to Goddard’s tale and once or twice looks of surprise passed between them. As it went on they lifted their pots to hide their lips and leaned well forward, whispering together, then listening to catch the words of the seaman, as his tongue, unloosed, swung merrily in the wind of anecdote.

After a while when he paused for a moment there was a commotion in another part of the room. A slender spark of the company of Ribault, with a well-worn doublet, but wearing a silver ear-ring, a nicely trimmed beard and other marks of gentle taste, was hoisted upon his legs and sang unsteadily a verse which in English goes somewhat like this: —

The last two lines he sang in a melancholy drawl, holding his pot up and looking at it with one eye shut. This caused much applause and loud clapping. To this he tried to respond with more spirit, with a song and chorus which they afterwards sang frequently upon the ships. It was very fine and had a martial ring.

When the refrain had died away and the Frenchman had dropped back upon his bench, Goddard, in a fine spirit of amity, jumped again to his feet, trying to sing. He had no more notion of tune than an anchor stock, but roared in an ear-splitting way:

He had reached a state of mind in which he cared little enough for king, priest, or the devil, and Salvation was in little better part, striving to preach a sermon in French, of which language he had no notion whatever. In the middle of his salty verse, Goddard was set upon by several of the younger men and lifted bodily upon the table. There he stood for a moment swaying awkwardly from one foot to the other, blinking at the light which swung to the rafters a foot from his nose.

Then he shouted,

“Mounseers, my voice is like the run of the topsail haulyard pollys. I can’t sing – an’ – blood an’ ouns! – I won’t sing.”

“Par la mort! try it again, try it, mon ami!”

“Non, mounseers, – but by the sakrey blue, I can keep a-givin’ ye healths so long as ye can stand – or sit – for the matter o’ that.”

“Bigre! It seems true that this sailor-man has a paunch like the great water duct of St. Michel. But give us your toast. What is it, then?”

“Yes, speak out, mon brave, some of us will understand you – diable n’importe! What is it?”

“Ye can comprenay or not, but – odds bobs! – Nay, Jem, I’ll say what I like. There may be traitors among us; but, ventre blue! I’m a free sailor of Queen Bess and fear no scut of a Spaniard as ever twisted a thumb-screw. The marrow-bones o’ the best ha’ kissed the dust this many a time. An’ will again for English an’ French, from this to Floridy an’ back agin.”

Some of the more timid in the crowd looked around half-fearfully and a warning “Sh!” came from the throats of some.

But Goddard was not to be daunted. He took a swig from his pot and raised his voice,

“Ye’ve started me now an’ hear me out, ye shall, ye maidens ye! To hell with Philip! I’ll tell ye why. Because there is money to be got in Spanish ships. One day soon Jem an’ me will sprinkle, not – hic – coppers, but gold , lads! Why, the San Cristobal had more gold than ye’ll find this side o’ Hesper-hades, with all ye’r talk o’ Floridy. The devil a better berth do we want than the Griffin . Master Davy Devil – hic – can smell the gold ten leagues at sea. An’ so, here’s that every – French – hic – captain may have the luck of Davy Devil!”

Here a whisp of a youth got up, drunk and quarrelsome.

“Monsieur, the sailor,” he said, “you speak – much of gold. You have – hic – captured many ships. Why therefore do we drink s-sack?”

Goddard put his hands to his hips and glared down at the boy. First his brows met and he did not know what to say. Then, as the humor struck him, he burst into a laugh.

“We drink sack because ’tis good for the entrails of hairy men. An’ till you grow a beard, me son, ’tis plain enough suet should do for you. But, ’twas a fair question. We drink – hic – sack because we have no gold. But wait! Wait all of ye another day or so an’ I promise the rarest in France to run down ye’re throats. Why, lads, – hic – Captain Sydney Killigrew hath upon his person in jewels the finest – hic – belt o’ treasure in all France, that – ”

He stopped and looked drunkenly from one to another. He was dumb with horror at having told the secret of Coligny’s treasure. His hands fell to his sides and the pot dropped to the table and floor, breaking another as it fell. Then something flew through the air crashing into the light and Goddard fell to the floor. There was a skurry for the door and the strange men who had sat in the corner slipped out into the night and went running down the street as fast as their legs could carry them.