University of Virginia Library

5. V.
THE COURAGE OF A WOMAN.

Twenty-four hours after this scene, the queen, accompanied
by her suite, had embarked for France.

A leaden torpor seemed to weigh her down. She no
longer sobbed, cried, or exhibited indeed any emotion
whatever. Seated upon the deck of the vessel, she
looked back towards the English coast, in the direction
of Exeter; and we who stood around her dared not
intrude upon that august despair.

Others less ceremonious, however, were speedily to
appear upon the scene.

The vessel containing her majesty was making straight
for the port of Dieppe, on the French coast, and had
long left the English headlands behind, when through
a slight mist there appeared indistinctly the outlines of
several sail,—cruisers, it was feared, under the flag of
the parliament.

The commander of the queen's vessel carefully reconnoitred
through his glass, and then, closing it, announced
that this fear was correct. His only hope now
was to pass them unseen, or uncared for, and he crowded
on all sail for that purpose.

Suddenly an ominous “boom” echoed from the fog,
and a cannon-shot passed in front of the vessel, dipping
and disappearing.

It was the signal to stop. The commander looked
at the queen.

“That is an order to heave to, your majesty,” he
said.

“Well, sir?” said the queen, in a low, monotonous,
apathetic voice.

“I await your majesty's orders.”

“My orders?”

“Shall I proceed, or obey the signal, your majesty?”

“Proceed.”

The vessel continued its way, dancing upon the
waves, now rising before a fresh gale, and dashing the
foam from her cutwater.

Suddenly a second shot came, and this time it passed
over the deck of the vessel.

“This is becoming somewhat dangerous for your
majesty,” said the captain. “What shall I do?”

“I am ordered by my husband,” said the queen, in
the same low, monotonous voice, “to leave England to
avoid capture, and sail for France.”

The officer bowed low.

“Your majesty's order agrees with my own wish. I
will then continue my way.”

“Do so, sir.”

A third cannon-ball passed like a sea-gull at the instant,
and one of the sailors who was leaning over the
gunwale was hurled, a mangled corpse, into the sea.
The captain looked at the queen.

“Go on, sir,” she said, coldly.

The pursuers now commenced a rapid and continuous
cannonade. The balls passed to the right, left, and
through the rigging of the ship. At every instant those

on board expected her hull or masts to be struck; and
the chasing vessels seemed to gain on her moment by
moment. Ever nearer and nearer came the now frightful
roar of the big guns; the cannon-balls of the enemy
skimmed the deck, or tore their way into the hull.

The captain hastened to the spot where the queen sat
beside the helmsman. His face was flushed now, and he
had evidently had aroused in him the ire of the sailor
who sees his craft in danger of destruction.

“Shall I return the fire, your majesty?” he asked.
“I hate to see my ship cut in two by these people,
and I have a gun that will send back a good ball
and make them keep a little farther off, perchance.”

The queen raised her dull eyes.

“You wish to fire?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“I forbid it. Time would be lost. I wish to escape.”

The captain saluted.

“Your majesty's order will be obeyed, and any others
she may give.”

He waited.

“You desire my orders, sir?” the queen said, still
in the same apathetic voice.

“Yes, your majesty.”

“Set every sail.”

“It will be dangerous, your majesty. Look! yonder
comes a storm.”

He pointed to an inky cloud, heralded by gusts
which struck the vessel, almost drowning the roar of
the cannon.

“Set every sail, in spite of the storm,” the queen
replied. “I am ordered to escape.”

“And if the enemy come up with us, or disable my
vessel,—what orders then, your majesty?”

“Fire the powder-magazine and blow up the ship,”
said the queen. “I do not mean to be taken.”

And she sank again into apathy; but the expression
of her countenance indicated clearly that she was profoundly
in earnest in giving the order.

The captain saluted and turned from the queen. At
the same instant a cannon-ball cut the mainmast in two,
and it fell over the side, with sails and rigging. The
ship shuddered through every timber, and the huge
mast, held by the rigging, became an enormous battering-ram,
hurled at every instant against the vessel's side
by the waves now lashed to storm.

“I think the time has come, your majesty,” said the
captain. “We shall be captured in thirty minutes, if
we do not sink.”

“My order remains unchanged,” the queen replied,
coldly.

“Your order—?”

“To blow up the ship.”

Suddenly a cheer from the crew was heard. The
captain turned quickly. A mile to windward, three or
four vessels were rapidly bearing down, and the French
flag was plainly made out. They quickly approached,
and the crew uttered a second cheer. The parliamentary
ships had drawn off, and a gun only at long intervals
now indicated that they had given up the pursuit.

The queen had not moved or spoken. As the storm
drove the disabled ship towards the French coast, now
in sight, she continued to gaze out upon the waters
towards England with the same despairing apathy. It

was only by the happiest chance at last that the vessel
reached a cove in the rocky coast. There the queen
entered one of the boats, and was tossed on the summit
of the great waves towards the shore. All at once the
boat grounded, and I leaped into the sea. The queen
rose at my signal, I took her in my arms, after the
sailor fashion, bore her to shore, and deposited her
upon the rocks wet with spray and sea-weed. The rest
landed, and, with the members of her suite, the queen
wandered along the shore, seeking shelter from the
storm. This we found in an assemblage of fishermen's
huts; and a messenger was sent thence to the château
of a gentleman in the vicinity to announce the presence
of the daughter of Henry IV. on French soil.

The intelligence spread like magic, and the rude
fishermen's village was soon crowded with the coaches
of the neighboring nobility, eager to succor the English
queen thus thrown upon French hospitality. She left
the village in one of these chariots, and was graciously
pleased to signify her wish that I should occupy a seat
in the same vehicle.

“Well, Mr. Cecil,” she said, as the coach rolled on,
“God has mercifully preserved us.”

She spoke in the same sombre voice; but I could see
tears in her eyes now.

“From the storm, your majesty, and the enemy:
that is doubtless your meaning?”

“Yes, and from my wicked self too. I have been
thinking of my child, and of my sinful order to blow you
all up in the ship. I had no right to give such an order;
and yet I gave it calmly and meaning it. I can now
accuse myself of want of moral courage to master my

pride; and I give thanks to God for having preserved
me at the same time from my enemies and from myself.”[1]

Her head sank as she spoke, and gradually tears gathered
in her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks.

“My poor husband!—my poor, poor little babe!”
she sobbed. “Oh, when, when shall I ever see them
again?”