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The Worlds of Gilbert and Sullivan

Francis Drake's Story! :-

Chapter V: A River Cruise!

Francis was very guarded about commenting to Liz on his visit to her destroyed home and murdered family until they were safely back in the Dartmoor cave. He then broached the subject as kindly and gently as he was able, sparing Liz the more harrowing details. Mama moved to comfort Liz: "It would have been quick", she suggested. "They wouldn't have felt any pain". Liz, however, was beside herself and inconsolable at first. Eventually she reluctantly accepted that it was a miracle she had escaped, and was alive and was now a loved and welcome part of Frankie's family.

There was obviously a difficult future to be faced but we all agreed we could cope with it better as long as we were supporting one another. Liz hesitantly requested one more favour: she had to make one personal final visit to her old home on the way to boarding Walt's boat. This was warily supported provided Francis and Prince accompanied her, a condition she willingly accepted.

Monday dawned clear and bright, and continued warm and sunny throughout the day. All was now ready. Time had slipped by and there had been no more rebel raids in our area during the week. As if by magic we had remained undiscovered. Francis and Liz were taking a farewell glimpse at Dartmoor and fondling Prince's ears at the opening of their cave-hideout as the Sun's brilliant red orb slid down behind the tor.

As the shadows lengthened, Prince - ever on guard - suddenly stiffened. In the woods the wolf-pack called to each other. Across the clearing there was movement and then a grey blur. Liz was sure it was her wolf-cub. Did they know (Sense?) that departure time was imminent? A few minutes later a golden glow appeared in the trees, and then was gone. "Goldie?" Do animals instinctively anticipate these momentous events? (One could write a thesis on this subject. But modesty dictates that I refrain from further comment!) Then, as the light finally faded, Francis collected Bess from her hide-out (No cart - to keep it as flexible and quiet as possible, you understand). Back at the cave the mare was carefully loaded with her share of the provisions.

We all had carrying-sacks to match our size containing a portion of the food and essentials. Now was the moment of truth. As soon as our eyes had adjusted themselves to the fading light-conditions on the moor we set off westward again, heading for Morwellham Quay. We followed rarely used animal tracks intermittently highlighted by an ascending full moon above broken cloud. Throughout Lord Russell's domain all seemed quiet. Francis fleetingly wondered where his godfather was now. And did he know what was happening on his lands; to our town, to our farms, to his people?

When we were within a mile of Liz's home, she and Frankie placed their carrying-sacks (together with Prince's) on Bess's broad back and peeled off down the fields towards the farm. Papa, urging caution, reminded them where to meet; encouragingly emphasising that if necessary they would wait a good measure beyond full tide for them before embarking. Approaching the farm Liz went through the orchard to her own personal garden to pick some special flowers - her mother's favourites. (Dog roses I think she said. But I'm no expert on flowers, they all make me sneeze!).

At the farm entrance Liz knelt down and silently laid the posy on the ground. She broke down and inaudibly sobbed. Francis, kneeling with her, placed an arm around her shoulder. Prince lay close on her other side as if aware of the comfort she needed. Through her tears she caught a glimpse of a piece of paper on the ground. It was a sketch she had recently made of her mother sewing, which had been trampled into the earth. She recovered it and lovingly wiped the soil off with her sleeve. Just then she caught sight of a small wooden 'Russian' doll her father had carved for her, that she had named Rosie. It was trodden into the mud but still in one piece and recoupable. Then a glint in the moonlit grass caught her eye. It was her father's knife; he had obviously lost it during the struggle. She retrieved it and tucked it in her belt. Now all she possessed of her family were three abandoned but highly treasured reminders. The trio arose and without further comment continued on their pensive way to join the others down at the boat.

As they wended their way down the steeply wooded slopes to the Quay they came across Bess returning from her task. She had been released to make her way back to the moor. They were saying their hushed goodbyes to her when Prince gave a low warning growl. Suddenly two men brandishing knives and staves hurtled out of the trees down the embankment and attacked them. Prince, teeth bared, swiftly retaliated, and Bess lunged out with front and back legs (like a trained war-horse). Liz used her newly acquired knife to good effect. And Frankie, with his knife, fought like a lion. During the  scuffle there was a sudden scream and  one of the men scrambled away injured. In case he should call reinforcements, Francis hastily gave Bess some farewell oats and a comforting pat on the flanks then sorrowfully sent her on her way.

Frankie and Liz then sprinted down towards the river and the rescue boat. It was at this point that they missed Prince. Francis ground to a halt and exhorted Liz to continue down to their waiting family. They were now concerned that they might overrun their allotted extension. However, she adamantly refused to leave him, so they both retraced their steps to look for Prince. Back at the scene of the attack there was a distressed whimper from beneath a man's body. They quickly dragged the corpse clear and examined the revealed animal lying severely injured. It was clear when they checked Prince that he had been fatally wounded, was in great pain and couldn't move. He could not survive in this condition, let alone walk to the boat.

Francis firmly commanded Liz to run down to the boat and ask them to wait a few more minutes for him. When she had gone he gathered Prince in a long and loving farewell embrace then did what he had to do to end his faithful friend's suffering. And it broke his heart. After carrying out what he saw as his last horrendous duty to the beloved animal he spotted Liz's recently recovered 'Rosie' on the ground. He quickly gathered the dropped treasure, stuffed it in his belt, bit back his tears and then raced down to meet Liz at the water's edge.

Liz didn't need to ask what had happened. His shocked, distraught appearance and his bloodied knife and hands told it all. Moreover she was waiting alone; the boat had gone. They could just hear the receding muffled oars, in well greased rowlocks, dipping quietly in and out of the water in the distant mid-stream.

They dared not shout, for fear of alerting the rebels, but Liz whispered "Are you game for a race, Frankie?" He nodded affirmatively through his anguish. So they quickly stripped to their underclothes, belts and knives, and dived into the fast running Tamar. They were excellent swimmers, and with the help of the tide they steadily started to gain on the heavily-laden rowing-boat.

Urging each other on they caught up with the boatload as they were actually boarding the waiting ship. Eager hands helped them scramble up to the ship's deck where they were safe with their family  and friends. They both collapsed on the deck; neither through purely physical exhaustion; but each with the heaviest heart they had experienced in their young lives. Liz drew out the salvaged sketch of her mother from her underpants and sank into despondency as the salt-water slowly dissolved its picture before her eyes. Francis suddenly yearned for his constant life-long companion, and disintegrated into silent sobs as the realization of his beloved Prince's death penetrated his consciousness. Then he went over to Liz, put his arm around her and handed the retrieved, somewhat battered, Rosie to her without the need for another word.

Mama and Papa wisely left them to grieve together in the privacy of their own hearts. There would be further opportunities to discuss what had happened in due course. In the meantime the ship's anchor was quickly weighed and topsails speedily unfurled to help gather some way and assist steerage. Then they silently glided down river on the ebb-tide towards Plymouth and the as yet unknown adventures and challenges of the open sea beyond . . .

Click the galleon's foresail (front of the ship) to catch the wind and move into the next exciting part of . . .

Francis Drake's Story! :-

Chapter VI: Hugging the Coastline!

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