A boat was rowing rapidly down the stream.It had passed the village of Chelsea, and the men were doing their best to reach their destination at Westminster before nightfall.Two men were rowing; in the stern sat a lady with a girl about eleven years old.A woman, evidently a servant, sat beside the lady, while behind, steering the boat, was an elderly retainer.
"It is getting dark," the lady said; "I would that my cousin James had not detained us so long at Richmond, and then after all he was unable to accompany us.I like not being out on the river so late.""No, indeed, my lady," the woman replied; "I have heard tell lately much of the doings of the river pirates.They say that boats are often picked up stove in and broken, and that none know what had become of their occupants, and that bodies, gashed and hewn, are often found floating in the river.
"How horrible," the girl said; "your tale makes me shiver, Martha; I would you had said nothing about it till we were on land again.
"Do not be afraid, Edith," the lady said cheerfully; "we shall soon be safe at Westminster."There were now only two or three boats to be seen on the river.They were nearing the end of their journey now, and the great pile of the Abbey could be seen through the darkness.A boat with several men in it was seen rowing across the river towards the Lambeth side.It was awkwardly managed.
"Look out!" the steersman of the boat coming down stream shouted; "you will run into us if you don't mind."An order was given in the other boat, the men strained to their oars, and in an instant the boat ran with a crash into the side of the other, cutting it down to the water's edge.For a minute there was a wild scene of confusion; the women shrieked, the watermen shouted, and, thinking that it was an accident, strove, as the boat sank from under them, to climb into that which had run them down.They were speedily undeceived.One was sunk by a heavy blow with an oar, the other was stabbed with a dagger, while the assailants struck fiercely at the old man and the women.
At this moment, however, a third boat made its appearance on the scene, its occupants uttering loud shouts.As they rowed towards the spot their approach was heralded by a shower of arrows.Two of the ruffians were struck - one fell over mortally wounded, the other sank down into the boat.
"Row, men, row," their leader shouted, "or we shall all be taken."Again seizing their oars, the rowers started at full speed towards the Lambeth shore.The arrows of their pursuers still fell among them, two more of their number being wounded before they reached the opposite shore.The pursuit was not continued, the newcomers ceasing to row at the spot where the catastrophe had taken place.Walter stood up in the boat and looked round.A floating oar, a stretcher, and a sheepskin which had served as a cushion, alone floated.
Suddenly there was a choking cry heard a few yards down stream, and Walter leapt into the river.A few strokes took him to the side of the girl, and he found, on throwing his arm round her, that she was still clasped in her mother's arms.Seizing them both, Walter shouted to his comrades.They had already turned the boat's head, and in a minute were alongside.
It was a difficult task to get the mother and child on board, as the girl refused to loose her hold.It was, however, accomplished, and the child sat still and quiet by Walter's side, while his comrades endeavoured to stanch the blood which was flowing from a severe wound in her mother's head.When they had bound it up they rubbed her hands, and by the time they had reached the steps at Westminster the lady opened her eyes.For a moment she looked bewildered, and then, on glancing round, she gave a low cry of delight at seeing her child sitting by Walter's side.
On reaching the steps the boys handed her over to the care of the watermen there, who soon procured a litter and carried her, she being still too weak to walk, to the dwelling of the Earl of Talbot, where she said she was expected.The apprentices rowed back to London Bridge, elated at the success of their enterprise, but regretting much that they had arrived too late to hinder the outrage, or to prevent the escape of its perpetrators.
Walter on his return home related the whole circumstance to his master.
"I would you had told me, Walter," the latter said, "since we might have taken precautions which would have prevented this foul deed from taking place.However, I can understand your wanting to accomplish the adventure without my aid; but we must think now what had best be said and done.As the lady belongs to the court, there is sure to be a fine pother about the matter, and you and all who were there will be examined touching your share of the adventure, and how you came to be upon the spot.The others will, of course, say that they were there under your direction; and we had best think how much of your story you had better tell.""Why should I not tell it all?" Walter asked indignantly.
"You should never tell a lie, Walter; but in days like these it is safer sometimes not to tell more than is necessary.It is a good rule in life, my boy, to make no more enemies than may be needful.This knight, who is doubtless a great villain, has maybe powerful friends, and it is as well, if it can be avoided, that you should not embroil yourself with these.
Many a man has been knocked on head or stabbed on a dark night, because he could not keep his tongue from wagging.'Least said, the sooner mended,'
