he tender
heart of his friend Stucley relented, and he not only repeatedly
embraced him with extraordinary warmth of affection, but was voluble in
effusions of friendship and fidelity. Stucley persuaded Rawleigh to land
at Gravesend, the strange wherry which had dogged them landing at the
same time; these were people belonging to Mr. Herbert and Sir William
St. John, who, it seems, had formerly shared in the spoils of this
unhappy hero. On Greenwich bridge, Stucley advised Captain King that it
would be advantageous to Sir Walter, that King should confess that he
had joined with Stucley to betray his master; and Rawleigh lent himself
to the suggestion of Stucley, of whose treachery he might still be
uncertain; but King, a rough and honest seaman, declared that he would
not share in the odium. At the moment he refused, Stucley arrested the
captain in the king's name, committing him to the charge of Herbert's
men. They then proceeded to a tavern, but Rawleigh, who now viewed the
monster in his true shape, observed, "Sir Lewis, these actions will not
turn out to your credit;" and on the following day, when they passed
through the Tower-gate, Rawleigh, turning to King, observed, "Stucley
and my servant Cotterell have betrayed me. You need be in no fear of
danger, but as for me, it is I who am the mark that is shot at." Thus
concludes the narrative of Captain King. The fate of Rawleigh soon
verified the prediction.

This long narrative of treachery will not, however, be complete, unless
we wind it up with the fate of the infamous Stucley. Fiction gives
perfection to its narratives, by the privilege it enjoys of disposing of
its criminals in the most exemplary manner; but the labours of the
historian are not always refreshed by this moral pleasure. Retribution
is not always discovered in the present stage of human existence, yet
history is perhaps equally delightful as fiction, whenever its perfect
catastrophes resemble those of romantic invention. The present is a
splendid example.

I have discovered the secret history of Sir Lewis Stucley, in several
manuscript letters of the times.

Rawleigh, in his admirable address from the scaffold, where he seemed to
be rather one of the spectators than the sufferer, declared he forgave
Sir Lewis, for he had forgiven all men; but he was bound in charity to
caution all men against him, and such as he is! Rawleigh's last and
solemn notice of the treachery of his "kinsman and friend" wa