The Laird's Luck and Other Fireside TalesQuiller-Couch, Arthur
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The Laird's Luck and Other Fireside Tales
Quiller-Couch, Arthur
Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction; Short stories, English
"Well, the chaff being sifted away, the grain came to this: His name
was Morales, his birthplace Cadiz, his calling that of pilot: he had
fallen (as I have said) into the hands of the Moors about thirty years
before: and at Azamor, or a little inland, he had made acquaintance
with a fellow-prisoner, an Englishman, by name Roger Prince, or
Prance. This man had spent the best part of his life in captivity, and
at one time had changed his faith to get better usage: but his first
master dying at a great age, he passed to another, who cruelly
ill-treated him, and under whose abominable punishments he quickly
sank. He lay, indeed, at the point of death when Morales happened upon
him. Upon some small act of kindness such as one slave may do for
another, the two had made friends: and thus Morales came to hear the
poor Englishman's story."
Here I broke off and nodded to the Count, who called for a lamp. And
so for a few minutes we all sat without speech in the twilight, the
room silent save for the cracking of Master d'Arfet's knuckles. When
at length the lamp arrived, Zarco trimmed it carefully, unfolded his
parchment, spread it on the table, and began to read very deliberately
in his rolling voice, pausing and looking up between the sentences
while the man Martin translated--
"_This is the statement made to me by Roger Prance, the Englishman,
Anno MCCCCIX., at various times in the month before he died_.
"He said: My name is Roger Prance. I come from St. Lawrence on the
River Jo,[A] in England. From a boy I followed the sea in the ships
of Master Canynge,[B] of Bristol, sailing always from that port with
cargoes of wool, and mostly to the Baltic, where we filled with
stock-fish: but once we went south to your own city of Cadiz, and
returned with wines and a little spice purchased of a Levantine
merchant in the port. My last three voyages were taken in the _Mary
Radclyf_ or _Redcliffe_. One afternoon" [the year he could not
remember, but it may have been 1373 or 1374] "I was idle on the Quay
near Vyell's tower, when there comes to me Gervase Hankock, master,
and draws me aside, and says he: 'The vessel will be ready sooner than
you think,' and named the time--to wit, by the night next following.
Now I, knowing that she had yet not any cargo on board, thought him
out of his mind: but said he, 'It is a secret business, and double pay
for you if you are ready and hold your tongue between this and then.'
[Footnote A: Wick St. Lawrence on the Yeo, in Somerset.]
[Footnote B: Grandfather of the famous merchant, William Canynge.]
"So at the time he named I was ready with the most of our old crew,
and all wondering; with the ship but half ballasted as she came from
the Baltic and her rigging not seen to, but moored down between the
marshes at the opening of the River Avon.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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