Virginia -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
Through the gates of the palisade now came, pellmell, the crowd without.
In ten minutes' time the women were in line ready to load the muskets,
the children sheltered as best they might be, the men in ranks, the
gunners at their guns, and the flag up. I had run it up with my own
hand, and as I stood beneath the folds Master Sparrow and my wife came
to my side.
“The women are over there,” I said to the latter, “where you had best
betake yourself.”
“I prefer to stay here,” she answered. “I am not afraid.” Her color was
high, and she held her head up. “My father fought the Armada,” she said.
“Get me a sword from that man who is giving them out.”
From his coign of vantage the watch now called out: “She's a long
ship,--five hundred tons, anyhow! Lord! the metal that she carries!
She's rasedecked!”
“Then she's Spanish, sure enough!” cried the Governor.
From the crowd of servants, felons, and foreigners rose a great clamor,
and presently we made out Sharpless perched on a cask in their midst and
wildly gesticulating.
“The Tiger, the Truelove, and the Due Return have swung across channel!”
announced the watch. “They 've trained their guns on the Spaniard!”
The Englishmen cheered, but the bastard crew about Sharpless groaned.
Extreme fear had made the lawyer shameless. “What guns have those
boats?” he screamed. “Two falcons apiece and a handful of muskets, and
they go out against a man-of-war! She'll trample them underfoot! She'll
sink them with a shot apiece! The Tiger is forty tons, and the Truelove
is sixty. You 're all mad!”
“Sometimes quality beats quantity,” said West.
“Didst ever hear of the Content?” sang out a gunner.
“Or of the Merchant Royal?” cried another.
“Or of the Revenge?” quoth Master Jeremy Sparrow. “Go hang thyself,
coward, or, if you choose, swim out to the Spaniard, and shift from thy
wet doublet and hose into a sanbenito. Let the don come, shoot if he
can, and land if he will! We'll singe his beard in Virginia as we did at
Cales!
'The great St. Philip, the pride of the Spaniards,
Was burnt to the bottom and sunk in the sea.
the St. Andrew and eke the St. Matthew
We took in fight manfully and brought away.'
And so we'll do with this one, my masters! We'll sink her, or we'll take
her and send her against her own galleons and galleasses!
'Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub, thus strike their drums,
Tantara, tantara, the Englishman comes!'”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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