Jerome's body on the sands. He delayed
his plunge into the river a moment too long, and a thrust from
Raleigh's sword speeded him into the yellow waters. John was found on
the bank, dead likewise. Basil's body was searched for in vain. He
was accounted as dead, for men protested stoutly that they had wounded
him more than once. But a scotched viper does not always die.
Gatcombe men were destined to prove the truth of that.

Chapter XV.

A LETTER FROM COURT.

Affairs in the forest had settled down; "excursions and alarums" were
no longer the order of the day and the dread of the night. Wounded men
were healed of the hurts gotten in the fray with the conspirators, and
their whole-skinned neighbours had ceased to ask them how they did and
envy them the marks of patriotic valour that they carried on their
bodies. The dead were buried, and the tears of wives, mothers, and
sisters were dried, and sad memories--when they came--called up only a
sigh of resignation: "The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away!"
They humbly thanked the Lord that He had given their men honourable
passage into the next world.

The admiral was no longer at Gatcombe, but had gone to London, and
thence to Plymouth. Raleigh had gone to London with him, and in London
had he stayed. After the solitude of the forest, the gaiety of the
court attracted him strongly; and, as her most gracious Majesty was
disposed to smile upon him, he had said to Drake, "The sun shines,
Frank; beshrew me if I stray out of the circle of its warm rays." To
which the seaman replied, "God forgive thee, Wat, for dancing so much
after a woman's heels. The sea--as I know full well--can be
treacherous, but I serve a less fickle mistress than thou."

Raleigh laughed lightly, kissed the storm-roughened cheek of his
friend, and bade him God-speed. "What would our royal mistress say if
she heard thee call her 'fickle'?" he whispered.

"I am not fool enough, Wat, to speak such words in her hearing. But
have a care--courts are slippery places in which to walk. An honest
man is safer on a ship's deck during a hurricane than on a palace floor
even when the royal sun is shining. Have a care of thyself, dear
heart, if only for the sake of us rough sea-dogs of Devon that love
thee."

Whereupon Raleigh kissed the admiral again, and sent loving messages to
Jack Hawkins and Dick Grenville and all the other gallant gentlemen
that quaffed their ale with eyes on the se